Missing: Liz’s wallet. Please return to “The Big House”
Ooops… I did it again.
I lost another license and debit card. That’s not too bad, they’re replaceable. Oh, but wait, my social security card was also in my wallet from applying for food stamps last week. I left my wallet at the 103rd Street light rail station in Watts before heading home. Can I get a round of applause please? Thank you, thank you.
Sure, I lose keys consistently and my apartment manager last year knew exactly that it was “apt 11” calling every time I called telling her I locked myself out. It’s just an ordinary Liz thing. But, I seriously do not understand how I have such a horrible short term memory. I tend to put something down then completely forget about it, then when I remember it later I can’t ever remember where I left it. I have to remember, “keep calm and never doubt” to stop myself from completely freaking out about the wallet. I have enough coins to get me to and from Watts tomorrow and a roommate can spot me on Friday. It could be worse, at least I still have my passport and checkbook so I can get cash from the bank on Friday. I literally just got a replacement debit card last week, but let’s just pretend that didn’t happen either…
Aside from my stressful day, I’m back to my college ways by sitting here procrastinating, drinking coffee and listening to music (make that NSLC jams, Ryan and Kelly) instead of writing a story I have due tomorrow. I swear, I can only write on deadlines. My best writing is when I’m on deadline. I haven’t written a story or reported in about four months, so I’m a little rusty (and not gonna lie: yes, I’m lazy). I guess it’s a good and bad thing I can only write under pressure.
The first profile piece I’m working on is on my roommate Marissa Jackson who is also serving at Markham with me. I’ll post the story once it’s done…that is if I ever force myself to actually sit down and write it.
Back to the grind. I forgot how much of a love-hate relationship journalism and I have. I forgot that we had a really bad break-up after my last broadcast piece last semester. But, we’re like that dysfunctional couple that always has to get back together, but then gets sick of each other in a couple of months, misses each other, gets back together and so the story goes. Right now, I’m in the “I love you, but I’m already getting annoyed of you” stage. But what would journalism be if journalists didn’t bitch and complain all the time about their work? That’s what makes a newsroom so fun and sarcastic.
I can’t forget I have a 5 a.m. wake-up call tomorrow. There’s been no better time to use the hashtag #partylikeajournalist then right now.
Back to the paper licensed mess I was in exactly a year ago from today (ironic, right?)