I think the biggest reason I consider "You've Got Mail" to be one of God's most awesome gifts, made special just for me, is because I truly believe in the power of one's words. We all know...or should know, and if ya don't know, allow me to break you off with the scripture, "Life and death are in the power of the tongue," and for serious, I firmly co-sign on that. In YGM two complete strangers meet and begin the process of falling in love without having met the other in person. Of course early on Tom Hanks got the advantage, but it certainly didn't take away from the film. And for me, who gets by creating the most fantastical of fantasy situations in my head all day long, that type of ish means the world.
Yesterday I started reading this blog, verysmartbrothas.com and I swear, if it were a book, I would've disengaged from the world so that I could read and read only, sometime yesterday afternoon. I love it...everything about it. Two Black men in their early 30's commenting on everything from love and relationships, pop culture, and the most random of topics like proper public restroom etiquette. They are witty, funny (I've lol'd quite a number of times), intelligent, and down to earth with just the dollop of bougie I need. No idea what they look like, or actually do in life, or if their internet selves are the Alec Baldwin to their real-life personalities' Stephen or Celebrity Rehab brother. Point is, 24 hours and I'm their biggest fan...and maybe in love with them just a little bit.
I could certainly be the only one who feels this way. And that's just fine, blame the writer in me, but I love the idea that someone's written word could somehow usurp a lot of the standard relationship bs. I'm thinking that even with all my rules and regulations that determine whether or not I'll take a guy seriously, I'd be willing to let some of it go if his writing made me want to do nothing but talk to him all day long. Having someone that I can count on for amazing conversation where I'm smiling or lol'ing in public before I can catch myself, ranks extremely high with me. Even if they live hundreds of miles away and with whom your interaction is much more Jerry and Elaine than Jim and Pam, it's still pretty awesome.
Here's hoping that Shopgirl's and NY152's are still out there, and are on their way to finding each other. But here's also hoping that they are super careful and cautious, cuz it's hella crazies out there and being killed by someone you met on in a chat room won't garner the kind of shock value it may have when the movie came out 12 years ago.
Word.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
"If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans."
This has, within the last year, become one of my most important quotes. (Thanks btw, Woody Allen). And I say "important" rather than "favorite" because my severe Type-A personality makes me hate the truth behind it. I am the most literal of literal people. For me, the world has always been black, white and little else...and as I get older, that has been more and more to my demise. Take this past year for instance. This past weekend was Northwestern Graduation c/o 2010. I was of course, filled with nostalgia and slight disgust that it had been exactly a year since I had donned my own purple gown (6 sizes too big) and tried not to cry all weekend long, only to have an embarrassing, uncontrollable, sleep-deprivation-fueled breakdown at 3 in the morning when it was all over (no, alcohol was not involved), that lasted a good 30 minutes...on the street...in the heart of downtown Chicago. There was serious snottage involved, restaurant napkins - just an all-around moment of not sexy.
Anyway, this and many other things flooded back into my mind and have since left me amazed. My biggest issue with graduation is that almost instantly, you're thrust into "the real world" (like for real, who knew that place really existed?!) in the harshest of ways. I once had a tooth pulled and for about 20 minutes, before the Novocaine wore off, I felt awesome, like Steve Carell - "40-Year-Old Virgin" post-coital, musical montage awesome. And then I got home and BOOM, BANG, POW (and whatever other onomatopoeia you choose to employ), the pain was shuckin' and jivin' all over my mouth, without any warning or expectation. And what sucks most, is that while the initial shock has warn off, mostly I'm still laying on the couch in my living room, screaming, crying and trying to figure out who I can punch or how fast I can get a tranquilizer gun for myself.
My life has always been made up of these elaborate plans I created for myself. Stellar academic performance. Impressive college. (A therapist told me I "like to be impressive," whatever that means. Okay, so I know what it means). Great job where I begin to make my mark on the editorial world. Grad school after 2 years. Husband by 26-27. Fraternal twins (1 boy, 1 girl) by 29 and then continuing to live out my fab life, family and career in hand. And perish the thought that this would not only happen, but in the exact order and time frame I wanted it to. *Blank Stare* Consider the thought perished, or at least a bit wounded.
A year out of college and my professional life has been trying at best. Everyone now I then, I think that I should've been smarter and like so many of my peers taken the easy way out by going back to school. But the athlete in me makes me feel like that would make me a quitter, so I can't do it. And, while some may argue over its triviality, for the girl who has had (at least) one boyfriend on constant since she was 14, for one to not currently exist is just a bit puzzling. To be fair, I did voluntarily opt out of a three year relationship back in September and am less than interested in another hardcore "wifey" role any time soon, but I still feel that my stock has dropped just a bit. And no, I don't need a boyfriend, I have "people" to talk to and most of the time that's enough for me, but having the option, or a few worthy to choose from would still be nice...make me feel more like me. (I'm a mess, I know.) But more importantly, with no secure prospects in sight, I fear my plans for a family, scheduled to begin in the next 3-4 years, may have been me setting myself up for failure. In which case, my twins may be more than just a stone's throw away.
In truth all of my itinerary may have been setting myself up for failure. There's nothing wrong with having goals...you're frowned upon if you don't. But I think some of mine may have been more romantic comedy than reality tv (real reality, not "The Hills" reality). I think God is trying to teach me a slew of things. Patience, the ability to rejoice and handle the little things, so that when bigger and better comes along, I'll be equipped to deal responsibly, and most of all, much deeper levels of faith and trust in Him. I can almost hear him saying, "I'm sorry...there's only one captain of this love boat. That captain is me," complete with the Tom Green voice.
So stubborn and Type-A as I might be, I'm trying to refine my list, or at least have it much more open to divine revision. I love God, but I'm not interested in keeping him in stitches because of my own self-obstruction.
**Candace Caveat: I firmly believe in "What God has for you, is for you" and I'm certainly not closing the book on my very specific and scheduled dreams for a family. What I'm saying is that when and how I want it to happen, may not be something He agrees with and that I'm trying to be more comfortable in seeing it His way than my own. This is not a "my way or the highway" kind of thing.**
Anyway, this and many other things flooded back into my mind and have since left me amazed. My biggest issue with graduation is that almost instantly, you're thrust into "the real world" (like for real, who knew that place really existed?!) in the harshest of ways. I once had a tooth pulled and for about 20 minutes, before the Novocaine wore off, I felt awesome, like Steve Carell - "40-Year-Old Virgin" post-coital, musical montage awesome. And then I got home and BOOM, BANG, POW (and whatever other onomatopoeia you choose to employ), the pain was shuckin' and jivin' all over my mouth, without any warning or expectation. And what sucks most, is that while the initial shock has warn off, mostly I'm still laying on the couch in my living room, screaming, crying and trying to figure out who I can punch or how fast I can get a tranquilizer gun for myself.
My life has always been made up of these elaborate plans I created for myself. Stellar academic performance. Impressive college. (A therapist told me I "like to be impressive," whatever that means. Okay, so I know what it means). Great job where I begin to make my mark on the editorial world. Grad school after 2 years. Husband by 26-27. Fraternal twins (1 boy, 1 girl) by 29 and then continuing to live out my fab life, family and career in hand. And perish the thought that this would not only happen, but in the exact order and time frame I wanted it to. *Blank Stare* Consider the thought perished, or at least a bit wounded.
A year out of college and my professional life has been trying at best. Everyone now I then, I think that I should've been smarter and like so many of my peers taken the easy way out by going back to school. But the athlete in me makes me feel like that would make me a quitter, so I can't do it. And, while some may argue over its triviality, for the girl who has had (at least) one boyfriend on constant since she was 14, for one to not currently exist is just a bit puzzling. To be fair, I did voluntarily opt out of a three year relationship back in September and am less than interested in another hardcore "wifey" role any time soon, but I still feel that my stock has dropped just a bit. And no, I don't need a boyfriend, I have "people" to talk to and most of the time that's enough for me, but having the option, or a few worthy to choose from would still be nice...make me feel more like me. (I'm a mess, I know.) But more importantly, with no secure prospects in sight, I fear my plans for a family, scheduled to begin in the next 3-4 years, may have been me setting myself up for failure. In which case, my twins may be more than just a stone's throw away.
In truth all of my itinerary may have been setting myself up for failure. There's nothing wrong with having goals...you're frowned upon if you don't. But I think some of mine may have been more romantic comedy than reality tv (real reality, not "The Hills" reality). I think God is trying to teach me a slew of things. Patience, the ability to rejoice and handle the little things, so that when bigger and better comes along, I'll be equipped to deal responsibly, and most of all, much deeper levels of faith and trust in Him. I can almost hear him saying, "I'm sorry...there's only one captain of this love boat. That captain is me," complete with the Tom Green voice.
So stubborn and Type-A as I might be, I'm trying to refine my list, or at least have it much more open to divine revision. I love God, but I'm not interested in keeping him in stitches because of my own self-obstruction.
**Candace Caveat: I firmly believe in "What God has for you, is for you" and I'm certainly not closing the book on my very specific and scheduled dreams for a family. What I'm saying is that when and how I want it to happen, may not be something He agrees with and that I'm trying to be more comfortable in seeing it His way than my own. This is not a "my way or the highway" kind of thing.**
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Unfettering For Two...
So today...or yesterday at this point, was Father's Day. And while it's certainly a big deal for some, for people like myself and my brother, it just isn't. My father is...a stereotype. In a lot of ways he didn't start out like that, and in a lot of other ways he did, but at this point, he just is. We have no relationship and but for some sort of miracle or divine intervention (through no willingness of my own), I don't see one coming to fruition at any point. My mother is deathly afraid that my life is going to be screwed up or filled with repeat lessons because of all the familial dysfunction and wants me to some sort of resolution. And secretly I am too, but I feel like I'm standing in a library, with piles and piles of books all around me - burying me almost, and I know that I need to get them all sorted out and stacked away, but there's just so many that it's almost impossible to know where to begin. But that's drama for another day...
Anyway, like I said Father's Day kind of blows. And while most of me doesn't care most of the time, there is a small part that reads the loving tweets from friends to their fathers or a Facebook status with the eternal pledge to be a "Daddy's Girl" and wonders/would like to know what that feels like. But more so than that, what I don't want is for my future children - my future daughter, to have to wonder and want the same thing. So I'm thinking that for both her and myself, however much it's within my power, I choose to forgive and attempt to move on from my own father, so that one day I can take her to the store and help her pick out a card or watch her make her own proclamations of Father's Day love. Something for me to look forward to.
And in spite of all that, Happy Father's Day to the men who standby their responsibilities and earn the rights to such a loaded title everyday, through the love, care and support they provide to their children. You make me smile.
Anyway, like I said Father's Day kind of blows. And while most of me doesn't care most of the time, there is a small part that reads the loving tweets from friends to their fathers or a Facebook status with the eternal pledge to be a "Daddy's Girl" and wonders/would like to know what that feels like. But more so than that, what I don't want is for my future children - my future daughter, to have to wonder and want the same thing. So I'm thinking that for both her and myself, however much it's within my power, I choose to forgive and attempt to move on from my own father, so that one day I can take her to the store and help her pick out a card or watch her make her own proclamations of Father's Day love. Something for me to look forward to.
And in spite of all that, Happy Father's Day to the men who standby their responsibilities and earn the rights to such a loaded title everyday, through the love, care and support they provide to their children. You make me smile.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Running Away From the Future
NY Times Bans The Word "Tweet"
So I just read this article *See Link Above* and apparently the New York Times has decided to eliminate almost all use of the word "tweet." Reason being? The term isn't standard English, and according to standards editor Phil Corbett, "...standard English is what we should use in news articles." He states that while someday the term may become "as common as email," right now, it has no real place amongst the pages of the publication.
Now, as a young journalist (with the college loans to prove it) and someone still trying to get a secure professional footing in the media industry, here is my problem with this. I can't fathom a scenario where I would interview for a position and those interviewing me would breathe a sigh of relief when I told them that I stand in firm opposition to all forms of social media. That I hate it, don't support it, don't believe in it and would then proceed in a round of high-fives throughout the room. Telling someone you'd like to work for in editorial, some form of online publishing, PR etc. is a joke if in the next sentence you're saying that you don't have a Twitter account or have at least attempted to understand it and can perhaps see its benefit.
Social media is where we are. What publication doesn't have a Twitter account or Facebook fan page? Further, which of them can say that these and other various forms of social media like Reddit or Gawker have not helped maintain or increase their readership or fan base in a time where actual paper continues on its slow and painful nose dive into oblivion? And because that is the case, how can anyone, a powerhouse like The Times especially, turn their AP Style-loving, literarily-snobbish noses up at what is a major component of both the present and future of journalism? Because that is essentially, in my humble opinion, exactly what they're doing by putting "tweet" on an indefinite time-out.
Needless to say, no cool points to them on that one.
So I just read this article *See Link Above* and apparently the New York Times has decided to eliminate almost all use of the word "tweet." Reason being? The term isn't standard English, and according to standards editor Phil Corbett, "...standard English is what we should use in news articles." He states that while someday the term may become "as common as email," right now, it has no real place amongst the pages of the publication.
Now, as a young journalist (with the college loans to prove it) and someone still trying to get a secure professional footing in the media industry, here is my problem with this. I can't fathom a scenario where I would interview for a position and those interviewing me would breathe a sigh of relief when I told them that I stand in firm opposition to all forms of social media. That I hate it, don't support it, don't believe in it and would then proceed in a round of high-fives throughout the room. Telling someone you'd like to work for in editorial, some form of online publishing, PR etc. is a joke if in the next sentence you're saying that you don't have a Twitter account or have at least attempted to understand it and can perhaps see its benefit.
Social media is where we are. What publication doesn't have a Twitter account or Facebook fan page? Further, which of them can say that these and other various forms of social media like Reddit or Gawker have not helped maintain or increase their readership or fan base in a time where actual paper continues on its slow and painful nose dive into oblivion? And because that is the case, how can anyone, a powerhouse like The Times especially, turn their AP Style-loving, literarily-snobbish noses up at what is a major component of both the present and future of journalism? Because that is essentially, in my humble opinion, exactly what they're doing by putting "tweet" on an indefinite time-out.
Needless to say, no cool points to them on that one.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
...Into The Void
Creating this blog, and then making a deal with myself that I'm going to commit to it, is something I equate with standing in a room by myself, naked. Technically I'm all alone, but my innate reaction is to try and cover myself anyway, for fear of who might see me. Writing has always been something private for me. Even when it was just an essay or paper, the only eyes I wanted on it were the teacher's and my own. I never had any respect or use for Writer's Workshop - to me they were just a nuisance. As a result, there are knots in my stomach even as I type, and this is my second draft of the first post in two days. (Yeah...just a tad bit of anxiety going on.) But when making a decision about going to the gym, my mother has always said that when you want to do it the least, that's the best time to go. Pressing beyond both yourself and the emotion increases the satisfaction. So this is me, starting up the treadmill.
This has actually been several months in the making. I went to see a therapist who told me to start a blog. I smiled it off instantly, while saying to myself, "Yeah right, who in the world is gonna want to read that?" and not being sure if I'd even want anyone to. But enough time has passed for me to realize that my audience, aside from an ever-supportive mother and God, is not so much the point. I have a writer's heart, with the mind to match, and I think I got so wrapped up in life this past year, that I abandoned that. So this is my chance to get back, and take a minute to look at myself instead of all that surrounds me. I'm not sure what will come of it from day to day, but I'm thinking that's a part of the fun.
In You've Got Mail, there's a scene where Meg Ryan is writing an email to Tom Hanks, but really having more of a conversation with herself. "I don't really want an answer," she says. "I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void." And as my life is one constant stream of film quotes and lyrics, those words are how I choose to see Reverse Peephole. But should others want to join in the ride, maybe my nakedness will serve as a conversation piece, or I'll at least grow to feel more comfortable in it. Either way, I'm in the room.
"...goodnight dear void."
Goodnight Dear Void...(video link)
This has actually been several months in the making. I went to see a therapist who told me to start a blog. I smiled it off instantly, while saying to myself, "Yeah right, who in the world is gonna want to read that?" and not being sure if I'd even want anyone to. But enough time has passed for me to realize that my audience, aside from an ever-supportive mother and God, is not so much the point. I have a writer's heart, with the mind to match, and I think I got so wrapped up in life this past year, that I abandoned that. So this is my chance to get back, and take a minute to look at myself instead of all that surrounds me. I'm not sure what will come of it from day to day, but I'm thinking that's a part of the fun.
In You've Got Mail, there's a scene where Meg Ryan is writing an email to Tom Hanks, but really having more of a conversation with herself. "I don't really want an answer," she says. "I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void." And as my life is one constant stream of film quotes and lyrics, those words are how I choose to see Reverse Peephole. But should others want to join in the ride, maybe my nakedness will serve as a conversation piece, or I'll at least grow to feel more comfortable in it. Either way, I'm in the room.
"...goodnight dear void."
Goodnight Dear Void...(video link)
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