Accept Me
I have a new job. For the next four weeks, I work in the undergraduate admissions office with Carrie. We work 40 hours a week scanning and indexing freshman college applications with a bunch women (my “desk,” for instance, is by “Shirley”). I listen to Pandora, drink caffeinated coffee (bad for me), and take frequent bathroom breaks when I am feeling restless. I also judge high school seniors, snoop around their transcripts, analyze their GPAs and ACT scores, and feel bizarre making note of all their 1992 birthdays. This job is extremely monotonous and somewhat terrible since I have to wake up five days a week at 6:15, trek to Chubb in the cold, and sit in an office chair for eight hours a day, but because I am extremely nosey, I also sort of love it.
You know what is ridiculous? Someone getting a 36 on the ACT. I’ve seen it, and it makes me very very angry. And confused.
Also ridiculous? Seven recommendation letters with your application. To Ohio University. A state school. Seven. Fucking. Letters. The most ridiculous part? READING these letters. I cannot tell you how many of them sound so forced and painfully general. They almost always begin “I take great pleasure in recommending…” and everyone is mature, gifted, charming, etc. I find that impossible to believe. High school kids, even the smart ones, suck. What’s even better is reading these recommendation letters and THEN reading the kid’s essay, which is, like, the lamest, most uncreative pun-ny tripe you ever tasted. Ew. Don’t compare life to driving a Volvo.
(Robert Downey Jr.)
“Crying Men“ is a collection of photographic portraits of famous film actors by Sam Taylor-Wood showing what it looks like when Hollywwod men cry. Taylor-Wood explains, “Some of the men cried before I even finished loading the camera, but others found it really difficult. People can decide for themselves which they think are the authentic tears and which they think are fake. It’s about the idea of taking these big, masculine men and showing a different side.”
Number one of my Christmas wishlist is Madonna’s sex book.
The Valley
I have been somewhat irresponsible with my emotions as of late. November is my difficult month. Morrissey has a song entitled “November Spawned A Monster.” Every November, I feel like this song serves as my own personal soundtrack. I must be a masochist because somehow — strangely — November has always been my favorite month; I love autumn, and I love the holidays. But.
It seems that I nearly always stumble into a very low place every November. This November, despite all of my coaxing, was no different. A few weeks ago I posted a terribly bleak note on my Tumblr; I’ve since removed it. I don’t regret writing it, and it isn’t that the feelings expressed in the note are no longer relevant. I just feel that, perhaps, it was a bit too heavy-hearted, and, as I say, irresponsible to write something that made all of my followers (or at least those who read it) feel so terribly sorry for me/worried about me (especially without following up on my note).
The truth is that my parents can only be who they are. I should only expect so much from them as they have very little that they can give me. And, in reality, despite my incredibly frustrating and heart-wrenching two weeks of Novemberism (that only just recently came to pass), I am very grateful. And I am very lucky. This Thanksgiving, I am with Charles, and it feels like a very warm and safe place to be. It is my first Thanksgiving away from home; I’ve always celebrated with my parents — relationship or no relationship. This year, it felt right to try something else… to open my heart to a new sort of home. Not that I don’t love my parents. Not that I don’t love holidays with my family. I love Lon and Allison McKeehen very, very much. But, as they say, love hurts. Sometimes I need to step away from the disappointment and live my life.
In regards to everything else that made me sad this month, I realized that it is never ever too late to try to fix what’s hurting.
Thanks to everyone who reached out to me. It is so good to feel that kind of care.
God bless and happy Thanksgiving.
A beautiful song/video that reminds me why it is so good to be alive.
I sort of forgot about this song, and I forgot about the music video even more. Both are beautifully done and illicit a plethora of memories and feelings. I love songs with a cinematic presence.
I was born
I was born to be with you
In this space and time
After that and ever after
I haven’t had a clue
Only to break rhyme
This foolishness can leave a heart
Black and blueOnly love
Only love can leave such a mark
But only love
Only love can heal such a scarI was born
I was born to sing for you
I didn’t have a choice
But to lift you up
And sing whatever song you wanted me to
I give you back my voice
From the womb my first cry
It was a joyful noise
Oh, ohOnly love
Only love can leave such a mark
But only love
Only love can heal such a scarJustified till we die
You and I will magnify
Oh, the magnificent
MagnificentOnly love
Only love can leave such a mark
But only love
Only love unites our heartsJustified till we die
You and I will magnify
Oh, the magnificent
Magnificent
Magnificent
— U2
Made my day.
In 1.5 hours, my parents will be here to temporarily soothe me.
I don’t know if that is possible, but we’ll see.
Currently editing my final fashion spread for 427.
Here’s to a fairly successful quarter shooting.
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