Yes! My search is finally over. I can now get back to reading. Man, this takes me back in the same way that old Mouseketeers episodes take my mom back.
The Bacon Song, from The State
February 16, 2009
February 8, 2009
Wait, some people don't want to be interviewed?
I just got my hopes for a rather high profile interview at the Phoenix dashed by the potential interviewee himself, who is just avoiding the media spotlight. It's understandable I suppose. I wouldn't want to talk to a journalist after my name has been thrown into the Hollywood shitstorm of the last few weeks. Apparently he agreed to talk with me because we share the same college, Emerson. He graduated in the 80s and assumed I wanted to ask about the movie business. Obviously the alumni person I used to track him down didn't convey that I wanted to write a profile...
Still, it sends me into this flurry of self-doubt. Maybe I came off the wrong way--too professional? Too curious? Maybe I should have asked questions first and said who I was later. Or maybe I should have just tried harder to get his number instead of email. But I realize I probably would have gotten the same rejection over the phone.
The thing is, I really wasn't trying to be a paparazzi. I really was interested, genuinely, in the full picture. Oh well. Next time. After the editor briefly said, "Good work," I have to come back and say that it's not gonna happen. A lesson learned.
In other news, I have temporarily but indefinitely disconnected from Facebook, and already I'm feeling some strange withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps because I am simultaneously quitting smoking, again.
On the one hand, it's good having more free time to do other stuff, not hunched in front of a computer screen (except now, clearly). Right now the sun is out and for the first time in months, enough snow has melted to show a few blades of grass. It's almost as if the white witch is growing weaker and Aslan has returned.
But on the other hand, I'm unsure of what to do with myself sometimes. Like when I don't get any exciting e-mails and there are no more status updates, picture albums, pokes or event invitations. I guess it's forcing me to really miss people instead of distracting myself by looking at their electronic versions. And those are a lot of people to miss.
Well, that's all for now, Pilgrim.
Still, it sends me into this flurry of self-doubt. Maybe I came off the wrong way--too professional? Too curious? Maybe I should have asked questions first and said who I was later. Or maybe I should have just tried harder to get his number instead of email. But I realize I probably would have gotten the same rejection over the phone.
The thing is, I really wasn't trying to be a paparazzi. I really was interested, genuinely, in the full picture. Oh well. Next time. After the editor briefly said, "Good work," I have to come back and say that it's not gonna happen. A lesson learned.
In other news, I have temporarily but indefinitely disconnected from Facebook, and already I'm feeling some strange withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps because I am simultaneously quitting smoking, again.
On the one hand, it's good having more free time to do other stuff, not hunched in front of a computer screen (except now, clearly). Right now the sun is out and for the first time in months, enough snow has melted to show a few blades of grass. It's almost as if the white witch is growing weaker and Aslan has returned.
But on the other hand, I'm unsure of what to do with myself sometimes. Like when I don't get any exciting e-mails and there are no more status updates, picture albums, pokes or event invitations. I guess it's forcing me to really miss people instead of distracting myself by looking at their electronic versions. And those are a lot of people to miss.
Well, that's all for now, Pilgrim.
February 3, 2009
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