Getting Fired

So today was an interesting experience.. maybe the title is a giveaway, but I got fired.

O.K., maybe that is being a little dramatic. But I'll let you decide..

The Technician's budget meeting, where the editorial staff decides its content for the day happens at 3:30. For whatever reason, despite the fact that I have been listed as the writer of the editorial for the last two weeks and have been helping edit for almost a month now I was not listed on our "budget."

I thought this was kind of odd, but didn't really put too much thought into it. Things became clear about 15 minutes after the meeting ended when I was called into the Editor-in-Chief's office by the Viewpoint Editor, Jane.

Jane and Saja then informed me that they thought I should work on my writing and interviewing skills more. In reality, what they really decided was that they chose someone else.

This was after they had told me that the admission process was just a formality.

I feel slightly bruised by it all, but maybe it is for the best. I am busy and stressed almost constantly and perhaps it is a good thing to take something off my plate... at least for this semester.

I still have my weekly column, but it seems that for now, my days of editing are over.

Day 1

I should be working on two article rewrites for my Eng 417 class right now. But I feel exceptionally lazy as I sit here listening to Death Cab for Cutie; so today I'm going to try something new. Feedback would be nice...

This may constitute starting a new blog, I don't know yet (basically I'll have to see how pathetic it is), but I want to try a new concept which hopefully will get me on here every night... despite my work load.

Short paragraphs of my daily random thoughts that I for the most part cannot put in my articles bc they are rhetorical questions.

Here goes nothing.


****

When was the last time you were kissed? Do you remember what it felt like? Were his or her lips soft, moist, a combination of the two? How did you feel ten minutes later? How did you feel ten minutes before? Was your chest thumping? Was it love, emotion, pure physicality, or are they even distinct?

Wouldn't you like to know...

Thinking Movies

I generally don't talk about very personal things in my blog.

For starters, it makes me very uncomfortable to tell personal things to anyone, even my own family. No less, divulge the privileged for anyone to read.

Sometimes though, I will admit, it is a good idea to let some things go instead of letting them stew within your own mind.

This evening, my father and I went to see Slumdog Millionaire at the venerable Cinema Arts in Fairfax, VA.

I thought the movie was a little over-hyped after the Academy Awards, but nonetheless, it was very good and well worth the price of a ticket.

If you have seen the movie, the main setting is no secret, but if you haven't -- the film is set (maybe this is obvious) in the slums of Mumbai (Bombay).

I thought little of it. But as I was leaving the theater I noticed that my Dad was being unusually silent.

Not that my father is ever particularly loud, but he was being particularly quiet.

As a point of understanding I should note the relationship my father and I generally share and the prevailing unusual circumstances. For the most part, my Dad and I act more like good friends than father son. I'm not saying there is any loss of love, but we do not have a very informative relationship. Speaking generally, less is more and no news is good news. This is perhaps more a sign of our introverted natures than anything else, but in any case, emotional feelings are not something we typically share.

This week though, my grandfather (my Dad's father) developed a horrible blood clot in an artery in his leg. Thankfully, he is in stable condition and his leg tissue is still alive, but it seems he will never walk the same again. While I had not noticed any prior signs of it weighing on my dad, it showed tonight.

When in the car on the ride home, my Dad said that he thought it was good but it made him uncomfortable. When I asked why, he said that he got flashbacks of the desert. He said that when he was in the Middle East he saw some atrocious living conditions, things which the sight of the movies slums brought back to him. It was interesting, as it was the first time in 6 years my Dad had talked about anything from his time in Iraq.

I still have never asked about what he did, apart from where he was, the classified version of which he has never been able to tell.

In any case, I thought it was very unusual that it was a movie that gave my Dad an opportunity to open up to me (even in a little way). The power of art perhaps..