22.Aug.2001

the one where she isn't arty and stupid

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right.

So, all arty, succinct bullshit aside, Fate has decided I'm going to Broadcasting School to become a professional DJ.

But, you don't need to go to Broadcasting School to become a DJ, just hang around with the jocks and get your foot in the door.

No, voice of frugality, I do need to go to Broadcasting School. Why? Because it will look good on my resume. I don't think "Will give blow jobs to the DJs" will look as professional as I want it to. Sorry, SK.

Open house was tonight, for American Broadcasting School here in OKC. Or, rather, in Del City, but still. They made me record my name as I entered the meeting room, which forced some instructors to pull me aside and compliment my speaking voice. Which obliterated most of my general anxiety. The anxiety mainly revolved about Financial Aid. And grants. And loans.

My mind was put to ease concerning this matter, however. If nothing else, it will give me experience, and I may also get to open up the school's eyes to the utter genius of Recoil.

I'm nervous, a bit, but a lot of the people are tender ones. They eased my frayed nerves. I cracked jokes all night. I do this when I'm nervous, I suddenly become witty -- or some variation thereof -- and people laugh at this.

Now I just have to get these forms in order before I can seriously get my ass in shape.

And to you, my last entry wasn't about you although it inspired thoughts of you. I am sorry situations are sometimes beyond our control, and I know you will be ok. Just keep your chin up and, as I mentioned, try turning your morose energy into creativity. It works when it needs to. I will reiterate how odd it is to discover how resilient we are, or how resilient we need to be. Sometimes I think I can bounce on your textures.

xoxo.

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time & machine