I have to find a job when I get up to Chicago. (If you know of any openings, please let me know!) I haven’t had to job search since…forever ago. The last two jobs I had were sort of handed to me. Both things I thought I wanted to get into, and luckily, I just knew people who knew people. I had my very last job for about three years and stopped working when I started grad school. I applied to LA Fitness Kids Klub a month ago just for kicks and never heard back. Rejection stings.
Fun facts about pigeons:
Most pigeons mate for life. If you blindfold a pigeon and take it far away from its home, the pigeon will be able to find its way back, even if home is hundreds of miles away. If you take male pigeon #1 away from its female partner and place male pigeon #2 in the cage with the same female, then blindfold male pigeon #1 and take it far, far away, male pigeon #1 will fly 30% faster to get back home. Probably to peck male pigeon #2 to a slow death.
Moral of the story: pigeons are awesome.
I hope I didn’t fabricate any of those facts because I seriously love pigeons now. Okay, truth be told, Stan told me about that hilariously cute study. I think it’s true because I believe a lot of what Stan tells me. (That statement doesn’t justify why the pigeon study is true at all. That, my friends, is called begging the question.) For a writer, I don’t question as much as I should. If it sounds good and there aren’t any ludicrous details, I’ll believe it. And then I like to regurgitate the facts as if they came from my own research. It’s the worst, though, when you regurgitate a story to the person that told you originally. Come on.
I wish I still had this outfit:
Today, my mom asked me why random acquaintances would come up to her and congratulate her on my engagement when she doesn’t know them that well and didn’t tell them. A few months ago, she asked me how people knew she got into a little fender bender/run-in with the law. (Refer to this post.) “How can they know?” she asked. At the time, I didn’t think about it and just shrugged my shoulders. We both speculated that it had to be through Facebook, even though I’m not friends with my parents’ friends on Facebook! Now I’m wondering who reads this blabber. Blather? Blabber? Blather? Either way, it’s crazy how word travels through these networks. Luckily, I have no secrets………………….
You can find out so much about someone just by looking at their pictures and reading their status updates. And if you can put context clues together, you can even figure out what’s going on with someone through other people’s comments. Come on. We can be so close to someone, and yet never feel more distant and alone. These kinds of articles come as no surprise. I love/hate the Internet. I love/hate blogging. It’s a serious pickle. A seriously sad pickle.
I totally downloaded Paintbrush for Mac just now to draw this picture!! I love Paintbrush. I love the Internet for making it so easy for me to download Paintbrush. I hate that I wasted seven minutes doing that. I love personifying inanimate objects. I love pickles. I hate mayonnaise. I loathe testing out new nail polish in the store, leaving when it’s still wet, and getting punished by smearing a big nail polish line on the cloth roof on my car when turning the light on.
I don’t remember what people did before social networking. I’m not trying to sound like an old fogey Luddite. I just don’t remember what it feels like to be without easy access to information. I don’t remember what it feels like to not know what people are up to unless I ask them. I don’t remember what it feels like to be without __(fill in the blank)__.
On another note, I decided to make this PSA:
We have about a month and a half until the big day. I freaking can’t wait. After we get married, though, please don’t say to me “Welcome to the club!” or anything along those lines. I can’t wait to get married and be a wife to the Mr., but I think welcoming someone to the married club should be a faux pas. There are weird implications, even if we don’t realize what they are. For starters, it perpetuates the thought that girls should be married to establish some sort of legitimacy in their lives, that a woman is of greater worth now than before when she was single. It’s a great thing to be married. I’m sure of it. But it’s also a great thing to be single. Live as a believer no matter what situation you’re assigned. Maybe I’m thinking too deep into an innocent phrase, but if I didn’t hear it, it sure would make me a…