Today was another Wednesday where I was too tired to shower. I overcompensated by thinking “what would a french anime character wear?” I even wore leggings, which despite the fact it is a popular article worn by many LI girls, when worn correctly I think they might overshadow the existence of the obvious bags under my blue peepers.
This morning I had to attend a PR Majors meeting during CH. Supposedly it was mandatory, which is why about 75 of the 200 odd majors showed up. Simply put, more Cosco oatmeal raisin cookies and Strawberry Flavored H2O for me. The majority of the meeting was about how the requirements for the major changed AGAIN and how the Holy Trinity of PR (Prof. Geyer, Berman, and Frisina) deserve pats on the back for having our courses renamed to “PR” instead of “JRNL”. It matters, indeed. As PR majors, we should also be proud to say we are from Hofstra. I already feel proud that despite my ridiculous accent (NY/DE/Midwest/Proper English Pronunciation), “Hofstra University” rolls so easily off my tongue.
Some PR students also talked about their summer internships, including my friend Dani from PRSSA who introduced the concept of social networking to the travel agency she was interning at and my friend Sara Knee, who I regard in my heart as a Hofstra PR super rebel. She is starting this Friday at Edelman Digital, a sect of Edelman Group (one of the top three PR agencies in the world and one of my first loves). Sara owned the meeting. While the PR courses at Hofstra were not “doing it for her”, she went out on her own to intern at a digital media agency. What I lack in tech-savyness she more than makes up for with her adorable yet badass demeanor. Sara and I enjoy ranting about how in a way we are PR outcasts who both agree that Perez is NOT our homeboy. With her standing up front, talking about her success, gave a glimmer in hope that for PR rebels like her and myself, we will be okay.
I also talked to Frisina afterward (she is writing my letter of rec for my study abroad in Venice next January) about how Sara and I rant together since we both relate to feeling like PR outcasts. Frisina gave a knowing look and a whispered it was because we are two of “the smart ones”. Frisina, thank you for making my schedule with me during Freshmen Orientation ’06 – I would probably still be a Journalism major and plague the Chronicle Office. Disclaimer – there is no offense whatsoever in that statement; I have written pieces for the Hofstra Chronicle that are currently in my portfolio. I really am not worthy.
Other news – Catholicism made the front page of NY Times.
Yet again, another instance of reassurance. Evidently, there are such things as progressive Catholics.
My favorite part of the article: “I think that one of the teachings of God is to take care of the less fortunate,” said Susan Tighe, an insurance lawyer who identified herself as “a folk Catholic, from the guitar-strumming social-justice side” of the church.
It’s true. Of anything I took away from expensive private Catholic education (the reason I sometimes had to bring peanut butter fold overs to school for lunch), is that it is more important to be an ethical and moral person who is open and caring to others than following ancient religious doctrines (often misinterpreted by those “Crazy catholics”).
Also –
I have been reading this book for the past month. At the point I’m at, the protagonist Leigh-Cheri has made her attic bedroom into a prison cell since her boo, Bernard, is in real prison for blowing stuff up with home made bombs. For shame. Not only is it smartly written, quotes such as these make me want to cuddle with it every night. This is Leigh-Cherie in “prison”:
“‘When we’re incomplete, we’re always searching for somebody to complete us. When, after a few years or a few months of a relationship, we find that we’re still unfulfilled, we blame our partners and take up with somebody more promising. This can go on…until we admit that while a partner can add sweet dimensions to our lives, we, each of us, are responsible for our own fulfillment. Nobody else can provide it for us, and to believe otherwise is to delude ourselves dangerously and to program for eventual failure every relationship we enter. Hey, that’s pretty good. If I had pencil and paper, I’d write that down.’ Alas, she had no pencil, while the roll of paper that sat by the chamber pot was destined for a different end.
the cross is a present from Nicaragua from my sister Tree and is a shoutout to Catholicism. The cymbal banging monkey is for kicks.
My Name Is Reb 