Goodbye, Jane

Another women's magazine shut down today. Oy. So I'm praying even harder (to the magazine gods?) that I find myself employed (that is, at a publication that would suit me, not like, Maxim or Playboy, but hey, I'm not that picky) after getting this journalism degree. Oh well. At least I didn't intern for Jane. Maybe being too ditzy to proofread your resume can be a good thing.

Spain-sick?

Around this time last year, I was running around getting ready to go to Espana. And I think ever since this summer began, I've been missing the place oh so much. The food, the people, the atmosphere, the beach, the siestas! I miss it. Really.

Being at work all day, five days a week, really makes me miss the siestas and just the overall vacation-feel. The United States should implement siestas. How awesome would it be to be able to take off for a few hours to eat and nap? I'd love it. I'm sure I wouldn't be the only one. Add some free ice cream and I'm perfect. Or cocktails. Ice cream and cocktails. PERFECT!

(I wrote this at work, planning to publish it later that day, but of course, I didn't.)

Mommy issues

A few years ago, feeling like I would forever be single or incapable of having a stable, healthy relationship, I thought to myself, "If I'm not married by 30, I'm gonna adopt a baby." Because at 18, being 30 is like, old. Being 21 is not really that much older than 18, but the fact that 30 is less than a decade away seems to have changed my perspective.

I've been at my new internship for the past 2 or so weeks and I've learned more about babies and raising babies than I really care to know. And while looking at pictures of oh so adorable babies (I have a girl in a pink tutu posted on the side of my cubicle) makes me want an adorable one of my own, reading letters from stressed out moms and dads about pooping problems, which foods they should introduce to their child's diet, when the best time is for naps, and why their kids are touching themselves or other kids, makes me want to not have kids at all. Or at least, not any time soon. And by soon, I mean, definitely NOT by the time I'm 30.

I attended an editorial meeting earlier this week where the editor-in-chief talked about changes to the magazine, and the feminist/I-never-want-to-be-a-stay-at-home-mom in me seemed to wake up (whereas me, in real life, fought the urge to fall asleep in front of everyone). Why is it that these parenting magazines are aimed at moms and not dads? Does a woman's life become completely taken over by her children once she has them? What if I want to read about shoes and handbags instead of diapers and strollers?

But then again, I read these articles about fun things to do with your kids and it makes me want to be one of those moms. The fun moms. The loving moms. A mom. Not the woman who gives birth and hands her children off to a nanny while she attends to her e-mails and meetings. But... I don't know. I have years to figure that out. All I know is, thank god for birth control!

life is funny

I remember turning 18 years old (I say that like it was decades ago) and feeling like I could conquer anything. High school was coming to an end (some college was bound to accept me, right?), my classes were easy compared to the excruciatingly difficult ones I had junior year (what the hell was I thinking taking AP Physics??), and I felt like I had a lot of things figured out. That was a short-lived feeling because I woke up one morning to what felt like two smacks on the sides of my face. I didn't know shit; I was just a naive 18-year-old. And sometimes it takes something devastating to throw you off your high horse.

But you know what? Life goes on. You're up one day and down the next. You win some, you lose some. You don't always get what you want. What other cliches can I add in?

Yet they are cliches because they're true. And that's life.

I'm choosing not to talk about the bad things because... I just don't want to (Can I be any more vague?). I guess some people can assume that I am unfeeling, but I choose not to focus on the negative, or to draw pity or sympathy, or maybe I really am not strong enough to talk about such things after all. Or all of the above. Or it's private, ok?

Regardless, that's life. And sometimes, you just have to smile through it. Like when you come to a job interview and see that you sent in the wrong resume to the wrong magazine. You smile and you go on like you're the most qualified ass for the job. Maybe you'll get it. Life's funny that way.

True story.

clothing optional

I miss lying on the beach under the hot sun with the least amount of clothing on that's allowed by law. I need a vacation. I also need money for a vacation. Damn it!

There really is no point to reading this because I clearly have nothing substantial to write.