In a mere week I will be traveling to a becoming city of colour (pun intended). I will be relishing every minute of my time as an aspiring journalist in New York City. I can only imagine how different the East Coast is compared to my usual Southern living. The suspense makes me have a very fugacious attitude to my impending travel! If I can conjure enough courage, I will have a very poignant resume ready for Seventeen Magazine. I have this blog to thank for that!
In fact, this blog has been without a doubt inspiring. I have an evocative idea to get a small, measly tattoo of some scissors along my hip. Thus, I will always remember what it feels like to write. Not to mention, as much as I hate to undermine stereotypes, it will show some musical significance to the band that has been the prodigy in my life and my writing.
Onto another subject, I can openly admit that I have had a wonderful dalliance this month. What could I possibly love more than writing? My Netflix account! Alas, I have a very surreptitious confession to make. I consider this secretive and very clandestine because I always thought that I had SOME standards. As much as I refused to watch Glee, I have reluctantly become a Gleek. With all honestly, Glee makes me rather….Gleeful. Oh my, I must be delusional at this point, eh?
Besides succumbing to the Gleek Frenzy, I have rekindled my love for the band, Imogen Heap. I had first heard the band’s music when the lead singer was known as Frou Frou, singing for the Garden State soundtrack with the hit, “Let Go.” The lyrics were captivating. I like the unusual, indie poetic writings these days. Imogen Heap’s music was advertised multiple times in the Fox’ hit TV show, The OC. The OC, like One Tree Hill now-a-days, was known for a lot of indie, underground jams. In fact, The OC put a massive media spotlight on The Killers before they became “main-stream.” It was typically a cynosure for indie music and it was my cup of tea.
So, this rather pointless blog has come to an end. I would like my song of the day to be very predictable. Try Imogen Heap’s “Speeding Cars.” It was my favorite song. Partially because it was well conflate with what I was feeling at the time----pretty damn blunt.
