There is a tv show here in England called "Can Fat Teens Hunt".
The reality of it isn't quite as entertaining as my imagination, but I give them a A+ for going balls out of the title. PC? What's that?
Friday, December 14, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
I can't remember the last time I cried so hard
If for no other reason, you need to watch the entirety of Six Feet Under just so you can experience the last three minutes of the final episode.
I have never seen the end of a series be so complete, so beautiful, so depressing, so honest, so meaningful, so full of loss, and so wholly satisfying.
T.V. can be an incredible artistic medium.
I have never seen the end of a series be so complete, so beautiful, so depressing, so honest, so meaningful, so full of loss, and so wholly satisfying.
T.V. can be an incredible artistic medium.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
And, it's all worth it.
My trip to Amsterdam is better described as my trip to the Netherlands. I flew in Friday afternoon a hopped a train to Leiden, where Sean lives. This comparatively small town is located about twenty minutes South of Amsterdam and boasts all the canals, windmills, and stereotypical Holland "culture" you would expect, but in it's own, rather wonderful, way.
Within twenty minutes of arriving in Leiden, I was experiencing some of that "culture" for myself. We met up with two of Sean's friends, Chris and Tad (who became our compatriots of debauchery for the weekend), and proceeded to go from bar to bar enjoying rounds and hilarious conversation. Apparently, these guys have recently embarked on a no-holds-barred "your mom" competition of epic proportion. Needless to say, I immediately felt at home (and homesick for my dear friends). At the third or fourth bar, I befriended a Dutch girl named Ester, who had an uncanny resemblance to Liza Minnelli. A good friend of Ester's was having a birthday celebration of some kind, so we ended up tagging along. At some point in the evening, I had my first kebab - it was delicious, as promised. We stumbled home sometime around three.
Saturday morning we explored the weekly market along the canals. I've never found the smell of fresh fish appealing before. There were stalls of all kinds of fresh produce, cheese (they're really big on their cheese), and stroopwaffle. If you ever have the opportunity to eat some stroopwaffle in your life, take it from me, don't pass it up. For breakfast I had a traditional Dutch pancake. The best description I can come up with for this delicacy is as follows: an open-faced breakfast taco on a crepe tortilla. Mine had mushrooms, bacon, and cheese and was the size of my face. Later that day we collected Tad and Chris and hopped a train to Eindhoven (about two hours further south). Sean had read about the Eindhoven Winter Festival and was eager to go experience all the ice sculpture, sledding, wintry glory. Since Sean had proposed this idea (and it was, sort of, the reason I went this weekend), I figured Sean must have had some kind of plan. Not really. Once we got there, we sort of just wandered off in a random direction. (Though it wasn't entirely random as there was some thought put into why we went that way. It was more of an educated guess). The first thing we stumbled upon was an ice rink - that's "winterfest-esque" enough for us. So we got some skates and (I at least) proceeded to fall down a lot. It was fun, if not a little painful. We asked the people running the rink where the other festival stuff was and they pointed down a little road to our left. As we headed down said little road, Chris got distracted by an Irish pub and we ended up in there drinking and playing pool for a couple of hours. When we finally did make it thirty seconds down the road, we found several tents and sledding ramps and all sort of fun - but it was closed. There was nothing else to do but find another bar. Eindhoven, in case you didn't know, it home to the "longest strip of bars in the Netherlands". This strip of bars consists of about eight dodgy looking places. For those of us familiar with 6th street, it's kind of a joke. The rest of the night carried on much like the previous night except for one major difference: getting home consisted of catching a two hour train back to Leiden at some point. That point, we decided, was 2:30. We bundled up and headed back to the train station only to find it was closed. After a couple more drinks and an hour or so of trekking from booked hotel to booked hotel, we started up negotiations with local cabbies to see who we could convince to drive us the two hours back to Leiden for less than 300 Euro. I say "we" here, but really Sean was the only person making much effort to get us home. Eventually, with the help of some pretty stellar negotiating powers, Sean got a Mercedes to agree to 160 Euro, and we made it home safe and sound.
Sunday, I left Sean to study and I went up to Amsterdam for the afternoon. I went to the Rijst Museum, where they house a hilariously random array of Dutch painting, sculptures, artefacts, and china as well as an impressive collection of Rembrandt's work (including the Night Watch which is IMPRESSIVE, to say the least). I then went to the Van Gogh Museum, which might have been one of my favourite tourist things in Europe so far. I embraced the nerd within, rented the audio tour, and proceeded to listen (with undivided fascination) to the entire thing. After the museums, I attempted to go find the Red Light District just to say I did. The tram system got the best of me and I ended up fairly lost. I got a little more panicky than I needed to, but I attribute this to the fact that everything was in Dutch and to the fight that broke out within five feet of me. This guy got jacked in the face, twice, and ended up very bloody and (understandably) very irate. So, I gave up fairly quickly and decided to seek the safety of the train station. This is the only thing traditionally "Amsterdam" that I missed out on - but I'm not that broken up about it. If nothing else, it just gives me an excuse to go back in the future. That night, I went with the three guys to watch the Steelers game. There was a girl from Pittsburgh there who, after one look, I immediately disliked. Other than her presence, it was another excellent evening.
Monday, I spent the morning wandering around Leiden while Sean was in class. I found several neat looking churches, loads of interesting nooks and alleyways, some of the best chai I've ever had, and a medieval citadel. After a cup of coffee with Tad and Sean, I had to head to the airport for my flight home. If my Dublin trip was a prime example of the tourist's sightseeing weekend (which I think it kind of was), then this trip was the exact opposite. It was a trip full of stories and exploits best categorized under "you had to be there". It was a much needed weekend of over-indulgence and I had an absolutely wonderful time.
Within twenty minutes of arriving in Leiden, I was experiencing some of that "culture" for myself. We met up with two of Sean's friends, Chris and Tad (who became our compatriots of debauchery for the weekend), and proceeded to go from bar to bar enjoying rounds and hilarious conversation. Apparently, these guys have recently embarked on a no-holds-barred "your mom" competition of epic proportion. Needless to say, I immediately felt at home (and homesick for my dear friends). At the third or fourth bar, I befriended a Dutch girl named Ester, who had an uncanny resemblance to Liza Minnelli. A good friend of Ester's was having a birthday celebration of some kind, so we ended up tagging along. At some point in the evening, I had my first kebab - it was delicious, as promised. We stumbled home sometime around three.
Saturday morning we explored the weekly market along the canals. I've never found the smell of fresh fish appealing before. There were stalls of all kinds of fresh produce, cheese (they're really big on their cheese), and stroopwaffle. If you ever have the opportunity to eat some stroopwaffle in your life, take it from me, don't pass it up. For breakfast I had a traditional Dutch pancake. The best description I can come up with for this delicacy is as follows: an open-faced breakfast taco on a crepe tortilla. Mine had mushrooms, bacon, and cheese and was the size of my face. Later that day we collected Tad and Chris and hopped a train to Eindhoven (about two hours further south). Sean had read about the Eindhoven Winter Festival and was eager to go experience all the ice sculpture, sledding, wintry glory. Since Sean had proposed this idea (and it was, sort of, the reason I went this weekend), I figured Sean must have had some kind of plan. Not really. Once we got there, we sort of just wandered off in a random direction. (Though it wasn't entirely random as there was some thought put into why we went that way. It was more of an educated guess). The first thing we stumbled upon was an ice rink - that's "winterfest-esque" enough for us. So we got some skates and (I at least) proceeded to fall down a lot. It was fun, if not a little painful. We asked the people running the rink where the other festival stuff was and they pointed down a little road to our left. As we headed down said little road, Chris got distracted by an Irish pub and we ended up in there drinking and playing pool for a couple of hours. When we finally did make it thirty seconds down the road, we found several tents and sledding ramps and all sort of fun - but it was closed. There was nothing else to do but find another bar. Eindhoven, in case you didn't know, it home to the "longest strip of bars in the Netherlands". This strip of bars consists of about eight dodgy looking places. For those of us familiar with 6th street, it's kind of a joke. The rest of the night carried on much like the previous night except for one major difference: getting home consisted of catching a two hour train back to Leiden at some point. That point, we decided, was 2:30. We bundled up and headed back to the train station only to find it was closed. After a couple more drinks and an hour or so of trekking from booked hotel to booked hotel, we started up negotiations with local cabbies to see who we could convince to drive us the two hours back to Leiden for less than 300 Euro. I say "we" here, but really Sean was the only person making much effort to get us home. Eventually, with the help of some pretty stellar negotiating powers, Sean got a Mercedes to agree to 160 Euro, and we made it home safe and sound.
Sunday, I left Sean to study and I went up to Amsterdam for the afternoon. I went to the Rijst Museum, where they house a hilariously random array of Dutch painting, sculptures, artefacts, and china as well as an impressive collection of Rembrandt's work (including the Night Watch which is IMPRESSIVE, to say the least). I then went to the Van Gogh Museum, which might have been one of my favourite tourist things in Europe so far. I embraced the nerd within, rented the audio tour, and proceeded to listen (with undivided fascination) to the entire thing. After the museums, I attempted to go find the Red Light District just to say I did. The tram system got the best of me and I ended up fairly lost. I got a little more panicky than I needed to, but I attribute this to the fact that everything was in Dutch and to the fight that broke out within five feet of me. This guy got jacked in the face, twice, and ended up very bloody and (understandably) very irate. So, I gave up fairly quickly and decided to seek the safety of the train station. This is the only thing traditionally "Amsterdam" that I missed out on - but I'm not that broken up about it. If nothing else, it just gives me an excuse to go back in the future. That night, I went with the three guys to watch the Steelers game. There was a girl from Pittsburgh there who, after one look, I immediately disliked. Other than her presence, it was another excellent evening.
Monday, I spent the morning wandering around Leiden while Sean was in class. I found several neat looking churches, loads of interesting nooks and alleyways, some of the best chai I've ever had, and a medieval citadel. After a cup of coffee with Tad and Sean, I had to head to the airport for my flight home. If my Dublin trip was a prime example of the tourist's sightseeing weekend (which I think it kind of was), then this trip was the exact opposite. It was a trip full of stories and exploits best categorized under "you had to be there". It was a much needed weekend of over-indulgence and I had an absolutely wonderful time.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
"Unfortunately, you have not been successful at this time"
I would die happy if I never heard this phrase again.
WARNING: Mopey and depressing rant ahead.
I just don't know what I have to do. Honestly. I had three decent enough internships, I have a 3.6 GPA in the number three portfolio program in the country, my portfolio isn't complete crap (at least, I am pretty sure I can say it shows that I can do what needs to get done), I've been involved in creative extracurriculars, and I currently hold a respectable position in business development overseeing the creation of internal and external communications. I'm not saying I'm the best candidate, but I'd like to think I'm better than the average candidate. I'd like to think I am at least somewhat marketable. I'd like to think I'm worth at least an interview before I am rejected.
As you can probably guess, I didn't get the TBWA graduate program I really wanted. It's a fucking training program, and I'm not good enough. I mean, how bad do I have to be for them to reject me flat out. It's not like they can say I don't have enough experience; you don't need experience for a graduate training scheme! It's not like they can say I don't have enough expertise; the point is for them to teach you! So, they must of looked at my CV and just thought, "she's such complete shit, we might as well train a monkey". For Christ's sake! I never really expected to get invited for an interview, but I did have one ever-so-tiny amount of hope that, perhaps, just maybe, I might be good enough to do what I want to do with my life.
No, I'm not the next great designer. No, I don't strike awe into everyone who sees my work. But, you know, I would put my fucking heart and soul into a job like this and I would do a damn good job. They also had this to say: Please don't take it too hard - some of the best names in the industry didn't make it first time either. What is it's not your first time? What if you've been trying and trying and applying and applying and no one gives you the time of day? How do you convince someone - anyone - to give you a chance?
I am still waiting to hear back from one last place. But I have no hope left. It hurts too much to get my hopes up - but, I guess you never know. This may mean I'll be back in Texas sooner than I originally thought. I can't really justify staying in London and spending the kind of money I am to live here in order to pursue a career I have no desire to pursue. I mean, if I'm going to be doing generic office work for the rest of my life I might as well do it somewhere more affordable. I think I could be happy just wandering around the globe. Does anyone want to donate to the "Shelley has no future and needs to postpone it for as long as possible" fund?
Everything is just such a God damned joke. *Deep Breath* I'm not posting this for pity. Writing it down and putting it out there is a nice way of venting and it will keep me from obsessing over this. I'll be over it tomorrow, but for today I get to be disappointed.
WARNING: Mopey and depressing rant ahead.
I just don't know what I have to do. Honestly. I had three decent enough internships, I have a 3.6 GPA in the number three portfolio program in the country, my portfolio isn't complete crap (at least, I am pretty sure I can say it shows that I can do what needs to get done), I've been involved in creative extracurriculars, and I currently hold a respectable position in business development overseeing the creation of internal and external communications. I'm not saying I'm the best candidate, but I'd like to think I'm better than the average candidate. I'd like to think I am at least somewhat marketable. I'd like to think I'm worth at least an interview before I am rejected.
As you can probably guess, I didn't get the TBWA graduate program I really wanted. It's a fucking training program, and I'm not good enough. I mean, how bad do I have to be for them to reject me flat out. It's not like they can say I don't have enough experience; you don't need experience for a graduate training scheme! It's not like they can say I don't have enough expertise; the point is for them to teach you! So, they must of looked at my CV and just thought, "she's such complete shit, we might as well train a monkey". For Christ's sake! I never really expected to get invited for an interview, but I did have one ever-so-tiny amount of hope that, perhaps, just maybe, I might be good enough to do what I want to do with my life.
No, I'm not the next great designer. No, I don't strike awe into everyone who sees my work. But, you know, I would put my fucking heart and soul into a job like this and I would do a damn good job. They also had this to say: Please don't take it too hard - some of the best names in the industry didn't make it first time either. What is it's not your first time? What if you've been trying and trying and applying and applying and no one gives you the time of day? How do you convince someone - anyone - to give you a chance?
I am still waiting to hear back from one last place. But I have no hope left. It hurts too much to get my hopes up - but, I guess you never know. This may mean I'll be back in Texas sooner than I originally thought. I can't really justify staying in London and spending the kind of money I am to live here in order to pursue a career I have no desire to pursue. I mean, if I'm going to be doing generic office work for the rest of my life I might as well do it somewhere more affordable. I think I could be happy just wandering around the globe. Does anyone want to donate to the "Shelley has no future and needs to postpone it for as long as possible" fund?
Everything is just such a God damned joke. *Deep Breath* I'm not posting this for pity. Writing it down and putting it out there is a nice way of venting and it will keep me from obsessing over this. I'll be over it tomorrow, but for today I get to be disappointed.
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