Don't give up on people yet
friend
minutesofme
A few days ago, I recieved a letter from The Rebel Yell's contact box online from some guy who wanted to get a hold of one of our staff writers. I forwarded the e-mail to the writer. Worried he might be a disgruntled reader or source, I asked her to let me know what he wanted.

Well, she e-mailed me back the next day and told me that everything was OK. Apparently, she'd left her USB drive in a computer lab. Some stranger had found it, seen her name on all of the files, Googled her and found The Rebel Yell Web site. Turns out, he just wanted to return her lost property.

The writer ended her e-mail to me, "Can't believe there are still nice people in this world who are willing to go the extra mile to help."

I must agree.

A beautiful paragraph...
more than this
minutesofme
I think of that girl I read about in the paper - the one with the flammable skirt. She'd bought a rayon chiffon skirt, purple with wavy lies all over it. She wore it to a party and was too close to the vanilla-smelling candles, and suddenly she lit up like a pine needle torch. When the boy dancing next to her felt the heat and smelled the plasticky smell, he screamed and rolled the burning girl up in the carpet. She got third-degree burns up and down her thighs. But what I keep wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think? Before she knew it was the candles, did she think she'd done it herself? With the amazing turn of her hips, and the warmth of the music inside her, did she believe, for even one glorious second, that her passion had arrived?

- from "The Girl in the Flammable Skirt" by Aimee Bender
Tags:

Good thing it wasn't an emergency
heaven
minutesofme
(a conversation from a week or so ago)

ME: I called you like five minutes ago to see if you wanted some food. You didn't answer. I figured you were busy playing World of Warcraft and didn't hear the phone ring.
DAD: I heard the phone. But I was in the middle of a battle. You can't pause those.

Goals for the new year.
oh yeah!!
minutesofme
I have high expectations for you, 2009.

  • Graduate college. I'm only seven credits away from my degree right now. So, I know this goal shouldn't be difficult to achieve. Still, it needs to be on this list to remind me that having a degree - even just a bachelor's degree from an unaccredited program within a fourth tier public university - is still something I should be proud of. After all, I have put a lot of time, effort and money toward this goal. Plus, despite my tendency toward procrastination, I've done pretty well in school. Sub-goals: Use my last semester to raise my current 3.64 GPA. Be fabulous at graduation by decorating my cap.
  • Get a full-time job (with health insurance!). For years, I've heard that it takes college graduates at least six months to find their first full-time job. From the experiences of my peers who've graduated before me combined with the current state of the economy and the newspaper industry, I can see it taking even longer than six months. Not for me, though. I refuse to let that happen. I will break that curb. Before 2009, I will have my first full-time job.
  • Move out of my parents' house. The deal has always been that I get free rent as long as I'm enrolled in school. While I doubt my parents will tell me "you have two weeks to move out after graduation" the way one of my friend's parents did, I will make it my mission to free them of my financial burden before the end of this year.
  • Read throughout the year. I should not let school be an excuse not to read. If I can make the time for ohnotheydidnt, I can make time for some quality reading. Sub-goal: Read at least 12 books this year.
  • Work out at least once a week. I pay something like $170 per semester toward UNLV's facilities fee to pay for the university's brand-new recreation center. I might as well force myself to use it during spring semester. Beyond that, I don't think I'll make it a priority to get a gym membership or anything; but I should be more active. I'm pretty sure walking from my illegally-parked car to the Student Union for work doesn't count as real exercise, and I should be worried when I'm out of breath after taking the stairs to the third floor.

Don't let me down, 2009!

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