September 3, 2009 My Journey

OK, so this isn’t quite on the expository topics, but this is just where my brain went. Sorry.


The first step is always the hardest. I clamp my palm around the cold brass of the doorknob, its five friends closing in closely behind, offering both physical and moral support. Their grip manages to squeeze tight, if only just for a moment, turning the handle just enough to release the mechanism that holds in place the barrier between my safe, cozy world, and whatever it is that is out there. The slab of wood, shaped and placed by the hands of my grandfather, falls to the side, and I look out into darkness. I step out into the corridor, pressing my prepubescent butt cheeks against the back wall. Cue the hall scene from The Shining. Which one? Who cares, they’re all fucking scary as hell-riding the big wheel, the Alice in Wonderland twins, and of course that elevator full of blood. Cue them all-at once.

The first step is always the hardest. The real first step. The one where your sole notices the subtle, yet distinct difference between the warm carpet that kept you safe in your room and the warm carpet that may ultimately betray you to the hall monsters. Wall to wall Judas. Cue the stereotypical shot where our antagonist perches on the starting line of a lane of hot coals, ready to take a quick, yet transformative journey, if only she can gather enough courage.

If not for the small, beige nightlight sticking out of the wood paneling, beaming eerie orange echoes of light out toward my nemesis, these second, third, fourth steps would not be happening. If not for this 79 cent beacon, I would never have made it from under the covers in the first place. One step follows the other in such a rapid fashion that even the quickest of sneezes would make one miss witnessing the entire, frightening escapade. Cue the scene of our hero, racing across a failing, wooden bridge, over a river of jaw-snapping crocodiles.

I made it to the end of the hall, and with the skill and grace unbeknownst to our viewers thus far, I slide into my final destination. I shut the door behind me, careful to not let any light out. Old people need their sleep. I find relief here, in so many more ways than one. But now it’s time to do it all over again. I step back into the hallway, my eyes completely shocked by the dramatic shift from bright to dark. Cue the narrowing hallway set to the sound of shrill violins- this is very likely a Hitchcock device, so it fits perfectly here.

Cue the end. I’m back in bed, safe from the hall monster, and safe from the shame that would befall me the next day had I not actually made it to the toilet. This journey is not one that I will soon forget.

Lights dim.
Credits roll.

September 2, 2009 My other car is a pair of skinny jeans

I hate hipsters. I won’t tell you why-you know why. Sinclair has a theory that we (our group of friends) are all hipsters to some degree. I have to disagree. I like us too much. But, if we are, to some degree, that most sanctimonious of subcultures, then here are a few reasons why it’s ok:

Hipsters aren’t afraid to stand out against historical persecution: It seems to me that, for hipsters, the reclaiming of ugly clothes, like boat shoes and leotards, as their own, is their way of retaliating against “the man,” much as African-Americans reclaimed the ‘n’ word, and post-feminists reclaimed the ‘c’ word. They really are the pinnacle of modern day social activists.

Hipsters are living up to the saying on those plaques you can get at the mall: (not they would ever shop at the mall, unless it was for the sake of irony)-I’m particularly thinking of the ones that say “Dance as if no one is watching.” Because, yeah, that’s how they dance-unfortunately, we are watching…

Hipsters are helping the environment: Well, most likely inadvertently, but still! That whole not bathing or washing hair frequently has to be saving some serious water. And again, recycled clothing definitely keeps waste out of the landfill, and out of the hands of very low income people who really should not be trying to pay $2 for an old Coca-Cola shirt-they really just can’t pull the look off.

Lonely Island: enough said.

Irony: If it weren’t for hipsters, the general public might still think that irony is defined by that ridiculous list that Alanis Morrisette read off in the late 90’s. If it weren’t for hipsters, comedy just wouldn’t be as funny, Tina Fey might still just be that chick with the scar who shows up in the background on some SNL sketches, and we sure as hell wouldn’t have Stephen Colbert making amazing political satire. I honestly don’t think I could exist without irony. Wait, shit, does that make me a hipster?

i just found out about this website, today-have fun! www.latfh.com

I'm usually full of bad intentions...

I'm totally cheating!

Complete: I plan to complete this month by creating interesting and engaging writing topics, and actually writing about the topics that I post.


Accountability: Since my position in this group is a little different, I am placing accountability at the top of my intention. First, I have to be accountable to all of you, because if I do not do my part, then it is much more difficult for all of you to be successful. I also have to be accountable to myself: if I get all of the topics written and posted ahead of time, then I get to actually participate in the group, too.

Consistency: That goes without saying. I think I made it two weeks last time, and as long as I keep up with the accountability part, this should hopefully fall right into place.

Dialogue: I think I want one of my focuses this go ‘round to be specifically on dialogue. Considering most of my classy insults consist of “your face” and “your mama,” Gossip Girl has inspired me to work on better dialogue.


So, a little about my life as a writer. Well, I started in a Journalism class my Freshman year of high school, then gradually moved up in the ranks on the newspaper from Feature Editor to Editor-in-Chief (well, technically co-Editor-I had all the duties but not full title due to an incident the previous year; apparently shoplifting on a school field trip is not a good idea-funny story, though). I did the UIL business and all that, oddly enough winning First Place for a Sports Feature article, then applied to the UT School of Journalism. I so didn’t get in. Boo. So, I went the Liberal Arts route and kind of gave up on my Journalism dream.

After lots of fun American Studies classes with tremendous writing components (seriously, throw out a topic and there is a 47% chance that I will say “oh, I wrote a paper on that”), I ended up picking up little writing jobs here and there, even writing a bit of porn on the side (even though I wasn’t having sex at the time-my porn totally sucked-if only I had that job, now…) Two years ago I got a job with go2.com, writing text-message alerts about local events, and eventually horoscopes, a fairly lucrative side job that has definitely contributed to my drinking budget. Not long after that was the Club Gossip debacle, wherein I was the Editor of an attempted up-start magazine; it was a lot of fun, and I don’t regret it, but ultimately resulted in a giant mess. Finally, last summer I started writing for Austin.com, doing event previews, SXSW coverage, Weekend Picks, and more. I don’t get paid at Austin.com, but I do get lots of perks that pretty much outweigh a paycheck.

So, after a conversation with my BFF while visiting her in the Bay Area last fall, I came up with the idea for this group. My background, obviously, is mostly journalism, and I had never done much creative writing. I figured I would try my hand at it some, and bring a few friends along. This is our fourth go at our little project, and I am still loving it. Eventually, I hope to pitch this as a book to Chronicle Books, and to have all of you join me.