The Blackbyrd comes in contact with VD

After conducting some research, I’ve reached one conclusion: I’ve successfully avoided writing specifically about Valentine’s Day on this blog for nearly six years. I wrote this post, but it doesn’t count; it’s just a 14-year-old Emily gushing over celebrities that she just so happened to publish on Valentine’s Day in 2009. Definitely doesn’t count.

Thus, the world has no idea how I feel about said “holiday.” (Why does it care? You’re probably thinking. I know.)

Uh, Valentine’s Day sucks.

Ever heard of Sweetest Day? Rolls around every year on the third Saturday in October. I’d rather partake in that than VD (haha, venereal disease, geddit? If you do, you probably only began reading this because of my super enticing and witty title. I flatter myself. I know.).

I’m making a pretty sweeping generalization here, but I’m assuming most girls want to be pampered and treated like princesses come February 14. From the perspective of a girl who has been mercilessly pampered and treated like a princess on VD, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Flowers die; chocolates get eaten; I have to sift through the damn mystery box to avoid the nut-filled and cherry-filled ones. Yuck. I’ve even received one of those gaudy, 2-foot by 3-foot cards. It seemed sweet at the time, now I look back and roll my eyes just a tad.

Maybe I’m desensitized because my first-ever boyfriend dumped me two days before VD during my freshman year of high school. I’ve learned to expect less, even when Mr. Wonderful showered me with so many nice gifts for several years.*

Summer's Eve's ad here is about the only thing that makes me thankful for VD.
Summer’s Eve’s ad here is one of two things that make me thankful for VD.

You can hate me for dissing VD, but just know that, like I said in my last post, I can be rather flaky. I’ll probably be crying into a gallon of chocolate ice cream at this time next year. Still.

I don’t need February 14 for a man to tell me he loves me or to confess his true feelings.

I don’t need the giant VD card, the boxes of terrible chocolates, a teddy bear holding a heart or a bouquet of flowers I’ll definitely hang upside-down to dry, only for the dried leaves and petals to fall to the floor, making a mess.

And don’t even get me started on the cheesy, gag-me-please diamond jewelry commercials. A $1500 rock doesn’t tell me you love me; it makes me mad that you didn’t spend it on groceries, the rent or plane tickets to go somewhere warm. I totally just jumped ahead of myself by 10 years, but I think you get my point.

You love me? Show me every day. Don’t buy me a $5 Hallmark card once a year, scrawling your name into it each time without even reading it first.

At least VD-themed Hershey Kisses will be half price at Walmart the day after. I’ll see if I can sucker my guy into stocking up for me. That’s enough to make this Blackbyrd happy.

How I react to those jewelry commercials.
How I react to those jewelry commercials.

Stay tuned: in next year’s post I’ll be mourning the loss of my college career and surely the plenitude of relationships with men that just didn’t work out.

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*Though Mr. Wonderful did once tell me something that made me laugh. He sold more condoms on and around Valentine’s Day than any other time during his, uh, tenure at a local Rite Aid. Haha figures.

Thoughts from one tiny corner of the universe

There are so many thoughts in my brain right now, tripping over each other, colliding into each other, grabbing and pulling at each other, fighting, rioting and screaming.

The pressure to write something on blackbyrd has crushed me for the past three years, once writing got hard. I tried to write something over the past two weeks. Then I tried again. I tried another time. I saved all three posts as drafts. Maybe I’ll open them up again someday and finish them. Maybe not. My struggles stem from credibility. The more credible one becomes as a writer, the harder it is to write and write well. I can’t produce crap; I can’t have any spelling or grammatical errors. One slip up and I’m a hypocrite. What a filthy word.

Until I really complete those drafts, here are brief synopses of each one:

Draft one: With the new strategic communications major here at St. Bonaventure University, plenty of my colleagues have begun writing on their own blogs. I know for a fact a fair few of them get more viewers in a day than I could ever begin to dream of. Thus, sessions of Emily doubting herself and her abilities are born. Does my writing suck? Am I boring? Should I jump on the bandwagon and promote myself more? Should I write about more interesting topics? Does anything I write even matter? 

The last one. Does anything even matter. That’s what hurts the most.

Blogging doesn't have to revolve around viewership.
Blogging doesn’t have to revolve around viewership.

Overwhelmed cannot even capture the emotions I feel when I think about how big the world is and how small I am. Fourteen-year-old Emily didn’t care when she registered this blog as “blackbyrd,” named after her obsession with The Beatles. She sat in her tiny corner of the world, typing away on her mother’s iMac. She didn’t even have a Facebook or a Twitter yet. Self promotion was seemingly nonexistent. She wrote about stupid shit. If she wanted to write it, she wrote it. And she didn’t care how many viewers she got; that’s not the reason why she wrote. She even stopped tagging posts during high school because –– get this –– she didn’t want people reading. Imagine that.

Viewership still isn’t  shouldn’t be my reason for writing.

There. That feels good to get off my chest.

Draft two: I love Miley Cyrus. I was her for Halloween last fall and I’d be her again in a heartbeat. What a public relations genius. I can’t imagine how hard it is to be her.

Okay, I lied. There is no Draft three, but here’s what it would have been: life is too short to let friends fall by the wayside. Sorry about the cliché.

I’m tired of friends fighting for stupid reasons. I’m tired of only hanging out with one or the other. Kiss and make up… please?

Finally, if there had been a Draft four, it probably would have been something about receiving constructive criticism and accepting it with grace instead of with anger and spite. But that’s just me.

Maybe the thoughts in my brain will quiet down enough now so I can sleep tonight. Such wishful thinking.

An opportunity. Are you in?

CLICK HERE.

Did you click it?

Let’s do something like it.

Let’s compile a small group of us to contribute to one specific weblog. We’ll either call it Convex or Bona Fide (I haven’t gotten there quite yet). We’ll write stories that students at Bonaventure  – and around the world – will actually care about. We’ll be credible and smart. Everyone will want to read what we write. We will go more in-depth with certain topics and be more frivolous about others. We’re not going to be strictly Bonaventure, and we’re not going to be strictly news. We’re just going to be something new. The world of news is evolving and we need to keep up with it.

Current ideas:

  • Satirical pieces
  • Personal reflections
  • Profiles of people on campus (professors; friars; anyone interesting)
  • In-depth news stories full of cold, hard facts (these will require a ton of research – are you game?)
  • Creative pieces
  • Creative videos

We’re going to appeal to majors other than journalism and have staffers who aren’t even close to being journalism majors.

If you’re interested, I ask you these questions:

  • Do you have blogging experience?
  • What can you bring to the table?
  • Have you seen any holes in current campus media that we could potentially fill?
  • What is your major (the more diversity, the better!)?
  • Would you be willing to take part in this project before on-campus internship hours are approved and granted?

This is serious. Let’s take advantage of this small university that lets students with dreams and ideas create their own things.

Snow day: take two

I have been enjoying me a nice, long four-day weekend. Friday we didn’t have school, then Saturday and Sunday brought the lovely weekend, and now Monday has arrived, and I enjoyed going back to sleep after I woke up at six o’clock this morning. Tomorrow we have school (if we don’t have another now day hehe), after that it’s the rest of this week and all of next week off for Winter Recess. I love taking days off.

With every day that is a snow day, my Spanish presentation is put off another day. That’s good because Thursday night I didn’t feel like typing it out and last night I didn’t feel like it either. Maybe tonight I will gain some responsibility and manage to sit at my computer long enough to type out a simple thirty-line Spanish presentation. As it is, I highly doubt that I will end up doing that. I will put it off again tonight and then have to type it up in school tomorrow morning. I procrastinate, so what?!?

So, what should I do today? It’s 10:24 and time is endlessly stretching out before me. Eh…today I will sit around knitting and knitting and knitting, obsessively checking my MySpace, Facebook, Shelfari page, SOS page and blog, possibly cleaning my room, maybe even looking for props for my presentation (again, doubt it!), and making some cookies. I am in the mood for cookies.