I have to write example blogs to my new job i'll be starting in August.
They think I’m humorous and get a kick out of what colorful cuss words I abuse, but I can’t use them once I start working there. I have to send in example blogs of how I’ll be writing and they’re trying not to censor me, but they have given me a list of words I shant be able to use:
Fucking cock balls
Bloody fucking dildo bitch
for fucking sakes bitch
But in retrospect I am still allowed to say:
Douchey McDouche Douche
Not that many to go off on, but I’m sure I can mask a lot of my favorites within clean words. Hopefully they still find me to be funny without the swearing, but I can tell you writing without having my expression of calling somebody a motherfucker is rather difficult this afternoon.
I’m saying, How do I write a blog without calling somebody a dick twatting motherfucker? I mean shit, am I suppose to just call her mom?
After speaking with Akin it seemed as though I gave off this impression that I have hordes of friends. I can count on one hand the people that I talk to on a regular basis. With the same hand, those are the only people I can say I truly feel a friendship with.
I have anti social characteristics, but when It comes down to it, I’m only good on paper. I know I come across as somebody that you’d have a fun time talking to - and most of the time I am, it’s just that I guess I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. I have to vibe with somebody, I have to feel like I can text them one day and say “Lets go to the zoo and pose next to the hippos” and their reply would be “Fuck yeah dude!” Those are the kinds of people I am attracted to, friendship wise.
A lot of people aren’t open, they’re not willing to be who they are and be content. I don’t like surrounding myself with negative nancy’s and debbie downers. People who employ hate rather then happiness. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely there when you need me the most - but I can’t stand angst around the clock. Because of that my friendships have always been limited.
I don’t see how people think I have an entourage of friends throwing themselves in my pathway, I believe I’m the most irrelevant person in my own world. When artists compliment my work or I get a lot of appreciation from somebody whom I find to be an inspiration, it’s like I’m a 12 year old girl at an Chris Brown concert.
I’m just the nerdy post grad living in her mothers basement. I have more friends online then I do offline, but I still blog/tweet/photograph/and live as if there is only one person following me, rather then a thousand. I don’t know if that’s me being humble or me just being apathetic - but trust me when I tell you, even my four friends think I’m pretty lame at times.
I have met a lot of creative people through tumblr, one being Rebecca. She had this brilliant Idea
"I first joined tumblr and noticed how social blogging had become.
I’ve always been fascinated by the idea that we put certain individuals over others (celebrities) because some unknown power has said “it should be so.” I’m not really okay with that because people are complex and just because someone’s complexity can’t be detected on first glance doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent.
For the most part none of us on tumblr are celebrities, yet with today’s technology it’s becoming easier and easier to see each others quirks. We all have stories, some we choose to blog about, others we don’t. Everyone should have the chance to tell their story, whatever that may be. Too often we want to honor and remember someone after they have passed on. I’m not okay with the idea that people and artists are worth more after they’re dead.
Many of you on here have stories, passions, ideas and I want to hear them. Some of you may have heard me mumble bits and pieces of this, but here’s the deal in its entirety.
Summer 2010 during the month of July KC & I will be traveling across the country to record/film/listen to everything you have to say to me. Nothing is off limits, speak whatever you feel needs to be spoken.
Up until last night I planned on undertaking this massive trip alone, maybe with a friend so I wouldn’t get lonely on the drive. However last night KC and I were talking about some things related to the project and she mentioned coming along to photograph everything. I was more than excited about that, thus say hello to the new edition to the crew:
I have been reblogging a lot of things from weblogforlove and this is the reason why. Rebecca & I will be taking a creative field trip the whole month of july all across the united states. I’ll be photographing every step and she’ll be filming all the people that volunteered with this project.
Some of you are confused about this whole project, so I wanted to explain what exactly it was and what was my relationship to it. I don’t know if I can really explain it any further other then that.
Social Documentary, She’s filming and I’m the director of photography. Follow the blog and if anything support this awesome project.
If you haven’t experienced your mother going through menopause then you’re one of the lucky people. My mom’s going through the stages of a woman who has aged, and it’s apparent that her emotions and mental stability is equal to a hurricane.
It goes from “aw love” to RAWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR within 2 seconds. It’s a continuous roller coaster of bitch fest. I understand her wanting me here for this moment in her life, women can become depressed and are prone to become unhealthy, but to be honest - I think this woman is going to kill me.
If she can’t find one thing to yell at me for, she’ll get her Sherlock on and find something. I go from getting scolded and cussed at, to being coddled and appreciated. This shit has to end quick, I’m trying to be here for my mother and I know she’s not feeling the idea of me moving to LA come summer, but if she continues to use the whole naval academy cuss word list on me - I’m moving in with my dad.
She’s done lost her shit, and I wouldn’t doubt the possibility of her killing me in my sleep.
We have a dream, not to get our Martin Luther King on, but we have one. Christmas has come to a stand still and I know there has to be some money tucked in a card from Aunt Gertrude. Help two creative young women, one with a film camera in hand creating a documentary on bloggers, and the other a photographer taking pictures of every face we come across. We want to tell your story, our story, one that uplifts the creative minds and also relates to the post grad blogging from his mom’s basement.
Even if it’s a penny, we’ll take it.
FOR THOSE WHO CAN’T REMEMBER THE MISSLEEDING DREAM:
Right now KC (Brain-Food) and I (Missleeding) are in pre production for a documentary project that starts filming in July called “We Blog For Love” about how technology has made people more accessible but not to the point that we’re people are really sharing their stories. The goal is to travel around the United States filming people and their stories. We’re starting with different ones from tumblr, because thats how the idea originated. I started to follow and read a lot of these blogs and I realized how interesting everyone was and how much knowledge they had to share, and I felt it was a shame that all this knowledge wasn’t getting spread
my brain and mouth together makes no sense verbally when you’re right in my face. I stumble on words, thoughts and I laugh when I’m nervous. To put it bluntly, liking you makes me a complete and utter moron.
Know the difference before you get on your soap box around the corner and preach the mighty gospel of your own personal beliefs. Going out of your way to prove that you’re right about something isn’t going to have the effect of;
"Oh, she is right. Well fuck me blind." Not even the slightest chance. If anything it will have the reverse effect of "Who the fuck hacked tumblr and made you the bloody Queen of know it all!?" My entire blog is based off personal opinion, as well as yours. If I wanted to knit pick about every talentless fuck you pine over, or countless contradictions, my reblogs of just your shit stating "You are being voted off the Island" would outnumber "Fuckyeah" blogs ever made.
Let us agree to disagree. Stop being the classroom dick.
when the driver says “she’s my youngest, her name is Constance” he comments “and its only 6 dollars per visit just dont leave any marks on her, it hurts business” thought for a minute and he confessed “that’s fair” since it was three dollars less then his cab fair “how old are you honey?” she says “im thirteen” her nose was runny, its raining in the Philippines he handed over the money in a chilling scene the truck drives off and now he’s on the hunt to kill her dreams
Post Christmas dinners with my so called “family” commenced in full swing yesterday morning, afternoon, and evening. Family members I haven’t seen in a few years, and some I haven’t seen in a decade. When I look at my family history on both ends, I don’t fit in any pathway. My fathers side, very militant and all were enlisted by their 18th birthday, then my mothers side, underachievers and products of unhappiness.
I’ve never had anything in common with them, then again most people feel like strangers to their own families. With overwhelming compliments on my appearance and congratulations with graduation I felt like just for this day, I was accepted. That the looks of me being the awkward estranged daughter no longer lingers above my head. Questioning my motives, even sexuality would be in the furthest section of their mind. I, at last, was an equal. That is until dinner.
I figured by now at approaching the ripe age of 25, they have given up asking when I shall be wed with children in the nearby future. Or better yet, stopped wondering when I’d cease all tattooing. The plates were filled with left over Christmas eve dinner, and wine was on standby. “So, kc when do you think you’ll be buying a house and getting hitched? Graduation behind you what more you got left?” said my uncle in the crude tone. WHAT MORE DO I HAVE LEFT? I have a billion things left. Matter fact, I have things I won’t ever accomplish in my lifetime left. Obviously my rebuttal was yelling inside my head, but I merely just smirked and went about smelling my wine.
I know I haven’t been home for some years, and everyone wanted to know my life details within that dinner. It was a mix between pure curiosity and judgment, believe me I can tell the difference between both. My mom has never taken up for my differences, my father only accepts, and my brothers just assume I was dropped on my head. No matter what accomplishes I get, I’ll still always be the “strange daughter” who’s a bit odd. If they’re not surprised by my ability in photography, it’s that I’m actually considered normal amongst my peers.
My professors and close friends have always been brilliant with me. They’ve always given me parental affection when it came to my talents. Not to mention always found it utterly maddening when nobody from my family ever attended my showcases. It’s like I live two separate lives in this world offline. One being the almost accomplished photographer with a bright future ahead of her, and the second being the black sheep who’s not only odd, but will waste life by living strangely to them.
This has always been my turmoil, but one can’t complain, it could have been worse. I could have been sent to military school instead of art school, but nevertheless - it would be nice to have ALL of my families support, instead of a split vote every time I pull up a chair and dine with them.