Today is my little sister's 18th birthday. She's gonna buy me some chaw and take me to the casino just because she can. Oh wait, no. That's disgusting. And casinos don't have windows, or clocks. Talk about Hell. No sunlight, no comprehension of time and then paying to lose at games over and over again. 
Ok, that wasn't the point of this blog. I did have a focus when I began, but mentioning Catherine's birthday totally got me off topic. 
Aaaaah, poor kid. I just witnessed a socially awkward computer and/or math major, who just bought cookies for lunch from the vending machine in the Talmage Building, drop half his meal on the nasty indoor/outdoor carpet. I bet you he would've picked it up and eaten it just the same if there weren't other people around. I mean, I would've. 
Oh yeah, I remember what the point of my pointless rant was now--I was going to complain about this ridiculous time of year we call winter. I don't get people who say they love the snow and enjoy the risk of losing part of their face from frostbite every time they go outside. However, as to not be perceived as the pessimist that I am, I will now list the good things about winter.
  • Cute coats, hats and mittens.
  • Shaving your legs is optional.
  • Snow slushies.
  • Gaining weight but being able to hide it beneath layers of clothing. 
  • Have excuses to be social or anti-social. (Let's go sledding! Let's play games at my apartment!  OR It's too cold to go outside. I'm allowed to be anti-social and grumpy because I haven't seen the sun in 2 months.)
Ok, that's all I got. This whole optimism thing is wearing on my mind.

Happy Birthday Catherine!


Editors. You can't write with them, you can't write withou--wait, nope, actually you could write without them. And then you would get your whole article published, instead of a butchered version that not only lacks the beautiful flow of the original, but ends up making far less sense than you ever thought possible. If that wasn't bad enough, then there's your name in the byline--why would I want to take credit for an article that is poorly constructed because of the editor and the graphics layout----guy. Boo, why can't I just write short stories and creative narratives and make money? Why do I have to have my work twisted and muddled for four years in order to get a degree that will put food on the table? Junk. Nay, AHHH junk. 
Wait a second, it may not be the editors fault completely. It's those stinkin' advertising people. If the paper had more ads, we have more articles--full articles, mind you. Yeah, it's the advertising posse in all their modern, contemporary, artistic glory. Mind your description, advertisers, you're temporary. Writers, on the other hand, never go out of style.


Why do I even have a blog? Not only do I not have time to write on it, but no one reads it (a few exceptions may apply, I confess) and I've always thought blogging was a lame. Probably because I'm journalist (well, journalism student, close enough) and tons of bloggers are people who sit around complaining about the world and thinking they're insignificant post will do something to make it better. In addition, blogging should not be considered another form of news. Not trustworthy news, anyway. I think it's great to have ordinary citizens contribute to the press and other branches of the media, but do it through an editor! Someone who actually knows how to spell and use punctuation correctly, and most importantly, will weed out falsehoods, clear up misunderstandings before publication, and avoid lameness! English writing is an art, and journalism is a combination of that art and a painstakingly achieved skill. Don't mess with that, don't degrade it by thinking it can be done and deemed acceptable by any shmoe with a computer and an internet connection. 
And yet, ironically, I am blogging at this very moment, complaining about a world that needs changing and thinking this rant will do some good. Nah, I'll just have to use my articles at The Daily Universe to do that.