Sunday, February 25, 2007

Ive reinvented the term 'lazy Sunday' today. Georgetown beat the energy out of me last night as we were falling in and out of its bar with more joy than we do studying. But I guess that is student life for everyone. Typing this message is so difficult I probably have to go to sleep right afterwards. When I tried to make penne with Swedish meatballs (what my family always had on Mondays when I was growing up.. Just with Ketchup and Parmesan..its great for hangovers too+it reminds me of home) i was so backwards that I had to use three pots because I managed to mess up boiling water.
Ultimate laziness pleasure is to watch the Oscars. the dresses, the film, Ellen. Im finding it slightly surreal to see a vice-president win. But I guess it is just another step of how the American presidency has become Entertainer-in-Chief as well as Commander-In-Cheif with the line between politics and entertainment blurs. Ok enough political analysis for one day.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

My First Job Interview Ever

Will I become an intern for a undisclosed Big Broadcasting News Corportation?
Little brat you might think, who has never had a job interview before. She is 22 for god sake. It is, however, not my first job. But stirring Dirty Martinis in a dimly lit bar in Hoxton, East London, didn't really require an interview, as such. More like I rocked up and my boss asked; "Can you look cool?" - "Yes" I replied confidently and boom, I was a bartender.
There were other jobs too, but this really isn't about my current Curriculum Vitae but about tomorrow. I have been dying to do an internship in DC because I need more of a challenge than balancing two beers up the stairs in Madams Organ on a Saturday night (even though it is quite tricky. But practice has made perfection).
So I applied for some internship. Mainly in media since this is the new thing that I have suddenly realized I want to do (besides making world peace, but I thought media could be a great place to start hahahahahaha).
I am really nervous though, I have no idea what he/she is going to ask! Or how I should dress (Im thinking strict white shirt under grayish pencil skirt, black light tights and black patent-leather shoes... But typing that out just now made me think more Maggie Gyllenhall in the Secretary than young professional, damn you Maggie!)
So basically the news are that I am really really nervous about my interview tomorrow, plus I have to write my opinion piece for the Hatchet, plus to buy this outfit (which isnt allowed to be kinky), plus then go to Chinatown to eat tapas and drink red wine and then go bowling and drink beer.
God, I do really live a tough life..Be thinking of me at two pm! (oh, just realized you will now know I have an interview and ask me how it went, if I suck everyone will know...oh, well.)

Friday, February 16, 2007

Blogging?

I wasn't a good blogger last week. I had a realization how incredibly self centered it is to write a blog about myself. Yes, it took me seven months to realize that. All I have been doing here is writing about me. Me, me and me. Don't get me wrong there is no way Im stopping writing about me, who doesn't love thinking/writing/obsessing about them selfs. But I guess I just got chocked by the late realization of my own egoism. But then again for those who know me/has met me at least once know that I have never pretended to be modest. That is for the unsuccessful. Plus, really this blog was initially meant for Swedish/Norwegian/British people who wanted to see how I was doing without them, funny how it turns out that they consist of 10 percent of all the readers. I either have bad friends or the random people for the north east corner of the States find me intriguing. Either way.

But I guess writing a blog about yourself is the new black. I mean everyone is doing it (if your not your a sucker stuck in 1997, get with the program). Small kids, teenagers, old people, dogs, lawyers.

I wish my mum would have a blog. That would be funny. She phoned me the other day heart broken asking if I had started taking drugs and do porn. She had read all the spam comments and she was getting really worried. Bless her.

UPDATE (12.31 pm, 2/16); As I was on my own blog again I realized that in tune with this post and my own self-loving there is no more than circa 7 pictures of myself here dotted all over the place. Really. Should I be worried? Is it time to speak to someone?
UPDATE (12.38 pm, 2/16); Or am I just like 99 percent of every other blogger that thinks people are interested in whether I prefer peas to carrots? And maybe people really want to know, before someone blows up the world. Peas. Ok, enough, back to writing book report.

Thursday, February 15, 2007

Valentine Schmalentine.

Went out for dinner yesterday and the outrageously overpriced risotto was almost worth it because of humor of the whole thing. Ok, well I didn't pay for the risotto so I guess it was definitely worth it. Women and men were sitting along one wall stacked up around the little tiny square table. Women towards the wall the men facing them (first I thought this was odd that all of them had chosen to sit the same, but then I figured it was because the men let the women walk in front of them, aa detective Stine).
Everyone looked uncomfortable. It was a bit like that saying with a big pink elephant in the room. Everyone knew that no one really wanted to be there but no one can admit to it. I guess what it really is, is a romantic arms race! You cant stay home because everyone else goes out, but you go out and everyone hopes that someone in the restaurant is going to be brave enough to stand up on the their little white table-cloth covered table and say; Lets all go home, this is ridiculous, we don't have to do this, if we all go home together no one is going to feel bad about not paying 20 more dollars than normal for creamed rice on this stupid holiday! And then everyone can write a treaty where we promise not to go out for dinner, or buy flowers or chocolate or teddy bears or anything on the 14th of February and then we would all be better people for it!

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Scientifically proven connection between Hair and imagination?

Deadline tonight at nine, I cut my hair off on Saturday and I have no idea what to write about, is there a mystical connection? Did my imagination actually sit in the end of my blond hairs? Well, clearly not as I am imaginative enough to come up with such junk that I have writers block because I cut my hair three days ago.
Im sitting in Gelman library (GWU library for outsiders) and Im incredibly bored. A guy in tracksuit bottoms is aslseep next to me whilst snoring quietly, some girls in spandex black tights, Ugg boots and furry jackets are chatting away about what happened at Platinum last weekend and someone else is photocopying frantically in the corner. Maybe its the setting that needs to change?
I started to take all these Journalism classes because when I got here I figured; I wanna write, thats my call! (last summer the call was International affairs, the summer before I believe it was voluntary work in China). And I figured I have a lot to say, people always say I talk a lot so how hard can it be? Well, its hard. Its hard trying to write something creative, funny, touching, moving or gripping like four times a week. Maybe I should write about not finding anything to write. I mean that is the gist of this post, and well done to you if you have made it all the way down to here! As a surprise you then get to see the new hair;

Monday, February 05, 2007

It is so cold outside today that when I walked to the Metro to pick up my ibook (who is finally feeling better) the wind made me cry and my tears froze on my cheeks. That is cold, even for a Swede.