A Very Lucky Girl

Vlogging. I thought about doing one, just one, for 1.37 seconds during a run the other day. And then I almost immediately decided against it for several reasons. Because I am not tech savvy enough to edit any attempts I would make at a video, I would have to make a flawless recording.  Writing a blog post is a fairly private activity, as is reading one. Talking or listening to something out loud seems to ruin the sanctity of words sometimes. I personally love to read other blogs when I should be doing something else. Like napping or listening to what Dr. Lee is droning on about. Jenna Marbles has the monopoly on vlogging and I could never measure up. She is the video blog goddess.  I hope you weren't hoping for a vlog. Because A Very Lucky Girl is not the least bit interested.

Who knew that "Beowulf" could house so much modern wisdom? I applied yet another line from the dragon-infested tale to my own life. "Anyone with gumption and a sharp mind will take the measure of two things: what's said and what's done." Lines 287-289 I talk about what I want to do with my life often. I've done nothing to accomplish these long-term goals.  "I want to study abroad." Okay, then do it! What do I need to do first? Where do I want to go? Who should I talk to? I finally put some action behind my wishes and signed up for an informational meeting on September 20th, after deciding that somewhere in the United Kingdom would be the best bet for furnishing my English Literature degree. "I want to be an editor. I think." Okay, well what does that require? How do I find out if that's even something I want to do forever? I had a brainstorm the other day and ah-ha! the Writing Center! I emailed them a few days ago inquir...

"Writers don't make any money at all. We make about a dollar. It is terrible. But then again we don't work either. We sit around in our underwear until noon then go downstairs and make coffee, fry some eggs, read the paper, read part of a book, smell the book, wonder if perhaps we ourselves should work on our book, smell the book again, throw the book across the room because we are quite jealous that any other person wrote a book, feel terribly guilty about throwing the schmuck's book across the room because we secretly wonder if God in heaven noticed our evil jealousy, or worse, our laziness. We then lie across the couch face down and mumble to God to forgive us because we are secretly afraid He is going to dry up all our words because we envied another man's stupid words. And for this, as I said before, we are paid a dollar. We are worth so much more."--Blue Like Jazz (Donald Miller) This is my life. What I love about writing is the freedom of expression. ...

There are two kinds of people in this world: good writers and bad writers. And I'm not saying that I was the good writer in this scenario, but I was certainly the better one. My roommate asked me to edit her English paper this evening. I could not stop cringing at some of the major mistakes and I have a whole new found respect for English teachers.  I thought bad writing automatically ended with high school graduation...it doesn't. My hot pink pen seemed to have a mind of its own as I crossed out awkward phrasing and tried to ignore the fact that she had forgotten third person even existed (I thought it was common sense to avoid informality, but there was a generous sprinkling of "I"'s and "you"'s throughout the paper).  But I found the ultra mistake on page five. She actually used the words "freak out" in a formal paper. I'm certain that I actually paused my pink ink rampage in disbelief.  The entire experience left me with a reg...