That Superman movie was very unrealistic
Who gives a 33 year old high school graduate a good paying job as a journalist.
Yeah Kal-El. I know you saved the world and all, but work a few years at no- to low-paying internships before landing a full-time gig. What is this, 1970?
And get my coffee, ya noob.
Cait: German poetry (in German) is beautiful!
Me: Said no one ever.
Cait: Whatever! You don’t even know!
Me: Uhhhh 😬
My boss transformed the newsroom over the last month as we’ve become a design hub that puts together not just our own newspaper, but also other smaller publications in the area.
Part of that transformation was buying new cubicles. When crews tore down my old cubicle last week to build my new one, they uprooted and forced me to forced to find new digs for a few days.
Luckily, one of my coworkers, Kevin, was on vacation visiting the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Kevin, who’s native, and I have this running joke. Well, it’s not so much a joke as it is him calling me Custer, since he says I look like the man the Lakota Sioux called Son of the Morning Star, and telling me he’s going to lodge a dozen arrows into my chest one of these days. You know, funny stuff. Hahahaha.
Anyways, my occupation of his desk led me to these text conversations:
Wasicu, according to the all reliable Interwebz, means:
- white person, Caucasian, white people
- greedy person, dishonorable person
But you can find a more extensive discussion on the word here.
Anyways, I thought my friend, PC, would enjoy this conversation, so I told them about the situation and sent the screenshot:
I don’t remember the exact day I started this blog, but it was about a year ago. Tumblr tells me I’ve published 449 posts, and if you divide that by 365, you get 1.23 posts/day.
This is HUGE!
Conventional wisdom and self doubting whispers: I’m not good at following through or carrying on in the long term. So I’ve done this blog for a year and averaged more than a post a day. That’s success, and I’m proud of myself.
Thanks for reading, to the person who checked out one post. Special thanks to the regular reader who was all up in my business all the way.
This is my diary.
Don’t like it? Read the subtitle.
Don’t like it? Don’t read it.
I have that effect on people…
I wonder if undertakers can etch emojis on tombstones as epitaphs…
Also, dog emojis are the best emojis.
Mulder’s in the newsroom. The truth is out there. (at Lincoln Journal Star)
Phone home. (at Pawnee Lake)