This is not a lead [lede]

In newswriting, we've been working on leads. Out of the 139534 things I can't do in the world, writing a kick-butt lead is not on the list. Even if the other 730 words of my story suck like thick gravy, I can almost guarantee that the first 18-35 words will keep you reading. At least that's the goal.


My teacher had us look at some of the leads we wrote last class, based on a cartoon of Little Red Riding Hood.


They were all about this caliber:


 "A young girl by the name of Little Red Riding Hood, has a close encounter with the Big Bad Wolf but gets away. What started out as an innocent trip to her grandmothers house through the woods ended up turning into a life changing event. Her lumber jack father had to save her life. Little Red Riding Hood, she came out of it alive and with learned many lessons."

All of the really bad leads brought back a memory from last year...

Lowery was on break was BYU-I "interning" for the Ledger  (Remind me to never, ever, do this). She wasn't allowed to help edit, she was assigned to help us exclusively with out leads.  I'm sure she hated it. The leads were terrible of course, but that's what you get from a bunch of 15-17 year olds. The new rule was that we couldn't have a lead more than 18 words. 

For me, being the disgustingly flowery writer I was, this was about as possible as switching my major to math. It wasn't going to happen. I'm sure I balked for days, but after that February I learned something that will help me for the rest of my newspaper career (however long that is...)

I learned to make those 18 words count. 


Newswriting bores a me little simply because I went through all of this four years ago. We're even using an almost identical textbook. It's good, I guess. It means I had a had really, really good experience back in the day...I'm just ready for something new. 

I could write more pointlessthingsyouneverreallyneededtoknow, but I'm listening to Pandora, and it keeps playing this video. Despite it's level of stupid, If I have to listen to it one more time I'll probably be checking under my roommate's bed for an ax tonight. 

Hold my heart.

Her talent is underrated in the music world.

She sounds better live then recorded. That's an anomaly in a world of auto-tune.

I am oddish.

After a monster of a 15 hour day this week, I collapsed on my bed and realized...

it was only Tuesday.
If I was 40 years older, I would have gone into cardiac arrest.

It wasn't a bad week, just an extremely busy one. Yet, I loved every minute of it. (Well, minus 1440 minutes that made up Tuesday)

When you meet first meet somebody and you ask them what they like, you inevitably end up on the subject of music. And without fail, around 90% of people will tell you they like ALL kinds of music.  Usually that translates into "I like all kinds of POP music", or "I like all kinds of COUNTRY music". Someday, when I meet somebody with a taste in music as eccentric and wide (okay...and weird)  as mine I'll marry them.

Here are the songs, good and bad, that have made this week go by a little faster.



Yesterday I listened to this song for an hour straight while working on my articles. It's not so much that the song means anything, it's just has a beat that makes me want to go clubbing. (If I clubbed, that is)

I like classical music, but I LOVE this song. It actually gets stuck in my head like a pop song. If only I could actually play it.


She and Him has become my go-to music. If I'm stressed, they calm me down. If I'm happy, I relate. If I'm sad they cry with me. If only I had known about this in summer, when they came to the Twilight concert series.

This song is over-used in relief society videos around the world, but there's something in this version of the song that gets to me. It was back when Wicked was new, and Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel seem more fresh. Maybe that's stupid, but this is the only version I listen to.

I don't know why. There is no reason behind this being stuck in my head. Don't judge me too harshly.

If all else goes awry, make long lists and take bad pictures

1. I can't just do a task. I manage to bring my personality into everything...even playing hang-man with children at the literacy fair. What can I say? A 12 year old kid made it perfectly clear that HE wanted to come up with words, so I put my color sorting skills to use.  I tried to build a laffy taffy tower, but it turn out that this nasty, chewy, funny colored candy isn't great for stacking. Pretty sure I'm the only person that's ever going to be  kicked off the Student Teaching Arithmetic and Reading club.

2. Statesman meeting today. My only complaint is that we should do it more often. It seems that every other girl I know complains her major doesn't have enough boys. Not only is that not a problem, but most of the Statesman boys are attractive AND witty. Oh, yeah. They can write. Take that family and consumer science majors. (Just kidding, I think)

3. I'm putting a list on a list. OCD? Lists are what make things actually happen in my life. I help a little too. 

4. #203 girls struck again with a bomb after new year/andie's half birthday/quesadilla party. I have no pictures and no facebook to steal pictures. I did find this one gem of a photo on my phone. We love this boy. If you're reading this blog thinking "I simply must have more pictures!" then you can visit 201 and steal Tyrell's ipod. We only took...137 pictures. 

5. We really loved tetris for a while. Technically, we still love tetris. Our schedules are a different story...

6. The engineering lab either:

a. doesn't think women can be engineers

or 

b. doesn't think women engineers need to use the bathroom

I looked long and hard for a bathroom. I found two men's restrooms, a cement lab, and 5 maps that didn't tell me where a bathroom was located. 

7. The other day, I was walking to class thinking about a guy. I kicked some snow in front of me, only it wasn't snow. It was cement covered in ice. I started to slip, but caught myself in mid-air. I won't multi-task anymore. 

8. Looking for housing next year, I came across this description. This was an ad, not a review. 

"Simple., functional apartment."

Good advertising. Definitely sold me with functional.  

sad face meta-for for my lifes

I feel kind of like a 99¢ bag of potato chips that was eaten and who's wrapper has been thrown onto the pavement in front of the Fine Arts Center to be smashed by millions of Converse tennis shoe soles, and then  kicked into the street and smashed by a Hummer.


The poor hopeless empty bag doesn't even have the ability to fight back. 


It's been a hard day. 

little internet gems

Story of my life:

http://whenparentstext.com/

being allee

Weird things have been brewing this fine week.  My classes aren't kicking my butt, I've been bus stalking a random soul, a man-ish person called me  honey-buns on the way home (note to future husband: don't, just don't.) , and *drum-roll please* it's been 40 degrees in Logan.  As they would say in Smallville, "land of the weird".

This isn't going to make sense exactly, but it's been jogging through my head all day.


I was born with a lack of...

charisma. People almost never love me right away. Sometimes they never do.
the part of the brain that understands consequences
silver spoonage in my mouth
eyesight. I hear I'm legally blind
sense of direction
patience

I was born with...

too much curiosity for my own good
self-esteem
no luck, but a good heaping of determination
goodly parents
a need for a fair amount of alone time

Someday I'll...

interview the 5 Browns
visit Peru
finish Les Mis
be a true aggie
be able to afford a backpack with a working zipper
write for a magazine
not have a room that smells like sweat covered with body spray

I'm far from perfect. Of late, I've been thinking about all the little parts of me that need to be improved. In this pondering, I realized they all stem back to one thing.

I can't wait.

I'm too anxious. My life is nearly perfect, but I catch myself so busy with the future, I don't notice the things all around me. This past week, looking at internships, job fairs, editor positions.....I realized I'm sprinting, looking for a finish line that will never exist. There are many things I need to improve about myself, but I can't do anything until I learn to be a patient person. I question whether I can overhaul that piece of a puzzle I call my personality. Maybe I can't, but there's certainly room for improvement. Miles and miles of improvement. Everything trails back to that.

I must now make an emergency exit out of my cranberry-sweat-twilight woods-stale water room.


Gag.

I write to inanimate things.

Dear Legs,

This morning you yelled at me. I know that I hurt you, but you have to understand. Someday, when I'm old and arthritic, you"ll understand why I did what did. Don't give up on me yet. I still need you for many more kick-boxing classes.

Dear H key,

It really annoying how you keep falling off my laptop keyboard, making alf my sentences look like tis.

Dear Stats,

I probably shouldn't judge too quickly, but patience was never my strong point.
I hate you.

Dear Travel Network/Food Channel,

You make me hungry. All the time. Out of respect for my legs (see above) I should probably should avoid you at all costs. However, you're allurement never ceases to amaze me.

Dear 3-4 people this week who have been amazed that I can survive without Facebook,

I have a phone to talk and legs to walk. Also a car. This ensures I can see or talk to almost anybody I want to. Crazy concept, I know.

Dear Sleep,

I love you and miss you. The fling we  had over Christmas break was wonderful, but these things can't last forever, babe. I have dice games to play and papers to write. Sometimes you just have to come second. Please understand.

Dear LOLcatz,

Someday when I'm an counted in the ranks of unemployment because my journalism and english degrees aren't enough to compete, I'll come for you. Look, there are job openings. http://jobs.cheezburger.com/. Plus, who wouldn't want to work for a company named after a small slab of misspelled meat?

Target-ed

Yesterday I was wandering the aisles of Target giftcard in hand, wondering what I could buy that wouldn't get thrown under my dorm bed not to be seen until May. I overheard this conversation between two stalwart, red-vested, employees.

Employee 1: After I pay all the darn bills, there's nothing left in my paycheck. Nothing. Not a penny.

Employee 2: Oh...

Employee 1: I just get those bills, and it's all gone.

Employee 2: Do you spend it on booze?

Employee 1: Nah, those booze...they mess with ya real good. They do things. I'm not gonna spend my money on no Booze.

I hover around the Legos aisle longer than I need to, just to hear the conversation. As I'm walking away, Employee 1 kindly asks if I need help. Since I'm not really in the market for Legos, I thank her and start to walk away.

Employee 1: Those booze, they don't do you any good ya know. Don't touch them. They make you do things...

She's talking to me.

Suddenly, because I wasn't wearing make-up, hadn't done my hair that day, and was wearing an old hoodie and jeans, I felt as she were telling me I looked like an alcoholic.

Lesson learned, lesson learned.