Podcast Assignment February 25, 2008
This is my first Podcast. I had no idea what to talk about, so I just though that I would talk about me. Enjoy.
For me…it’s Facebook! February 10, 2008
When I think of a blogger, I think of someone in a fancy coffee shop. This person has a coffee steaming to their left. Perhaps it’s a half-cream, no fat, whipped topping, chocoltey, not so chocolately, blah, blah blah, that cost them fifteen dollars and their first born. The remnants of a scone sit on a fancy small plate beside them. The blogger’s company is a laptop perched on a very small, and not so practical size table. The person is staring at the computer screne, reading up on the latest news of the day. They ignore the people around them, who engage in laughter and conversation as they sip their drinks and talk about their days to their chosen company. The bloggers knows terms like “http” and “twitter”. They check their various accounts, they read what others have to say, and then they type away on their own keyboard until their own “gobbily gook” is expressed on their blog.
I’m not at a coffee shop. I’m actually in the kitchen of the student house I’m living in. To my left is an “Old El Paso Taco Kit” and a jar of salsa. A few feet away from me is a 1 lb. and a half of ground beef slowly browning in a “Breast Cancer Pink” frying pan. My roommate and I went “halfs” on supper tonight. I’m not dressed in a nice shirt and jeans. I’m wearing a black tank-top and a pair of sweatpants I don’t think I’ve washed in a week. My hair is up in an “anything BUT fabulous” style of ponytail and bobby pins, and I’m pretty sure my breath isn’t a bed of roses.
I’m not the stereotype that I thought bloggers were, and just like my views of bloggers, my opinions on Web 2.0 and all those sites filled with resources for bloggers…has changed. (Da da daaaaa!!!!).
I was exposed to blogging last year. My teacher of “Online Journalism”, Wayne, said I was a natural. He exposed me to a world where I could have a creative outlet. I enjoyed this. A few times through the summer, on my spare time, I crafted a couple entries and published them to my “Vox” account (http://lauramacduff.vox.com). I have paid attention to my account at Vox. I’ve written a few entries and read what was going on in my neighbourhood. Somewhere between the pass and the fail mark in that class, I found myself on sites such as del.ici.ous and flickr, and this year I have been exposed to Twitter.
Why do we need these? The blogging sites, I understand. But really…why must I have several different sites going at the same time for something I can all get done at my friendly, neighbourhood, Facbook account. I can post pictures on my Facbeook and all my friends can see. Why do I need to upload pics onto a site specifically for that? Why must I have a site completely devoted to updating me on the latest?
I just don’t see the point. I don’t understand the need. My practicle blogging self doesn’t see the joy in knowing that all the work that I do on Facebook I have to repeat using a million different websites that all do the same thing.
Wherever I go, I leave a trail. February 5, 2008
I have been living at my house now since September. It’s a student house about a fifteen minute walk away from my college. I like living in a student house partly because I get to walk everywhere, and to get anywhere, I need to walk far. I enjoy my excercise and I’ve come to really enjoy that walk that I do to and from school.
On my walks I listen to my MP3 player. I listen to everything from country to “The Oldies” and I love every second of them. I’m sure during the fast songs, there is a little gallop in my step.
I’ve come into the habit of grabbing a snack for my stroll. Usually it’s an apple I grab from a large collection in my kitchen.
I walk along the sidewalks munching away until my teeth hit the core. I then throw the core over my shoulder…and I usually don’t care where it lands. I walk to school maybe two or even three times a day. So…that about two or three apples, unless I grab two, which I tend to do most times.
About a month ago, I had to stop and chuckle on my walk to school.
I noticed that there was a trail of apple cores along the way.
The best pictures are drunk people taking pictures and drunk people in pictures… February 5, 2008
We all have them. Those pictures that you wonder exactly what you were thinking when the lense pointed at you. The pictures are funny and beyond embarrassment, they are humiliating.
Enjoy!
This was taken at a bar downtown Hamilton. I was celebrating with some fellow journalism students at Hess Village, a strip of bars in Hamilton, Ontario. My friend snapped this photo, posted it on Facebook, and when I saw it, I laughed so hard I thought I was going to bust a hyrnia.
Kimberly and I have been best-friends since Grade 2. I’m her maid of honour in August of 2009. She will be mine in 2045 (probably sooner but for my own sanity, I’m going to say I’m putting of marriage!).
This was taken at 5 in the morning. It was a good night. I got together with some friends in Waterloo. We took a stroll along a street in Waterloo and wondered upon a construction site. This construction site was the victom of many fun and games of the intoxicated.
Vodka…enough said.
This was taken at the last pub of my first year of college in 2007. I was having a good time that night.
Sometimes……..you just……..don’t know what to say about photos. Look closely…I’m almost pouring juice on my friend.
First year college. No class the next day.
Where did I get this hat? I don’t remember…
I’m sitting on my boyfriends lap. At this time I think we had been seeing eachother about two months. He cad do better.
Sexy.
I don’t know why.
I know that the madness will continue. I have three months left of school, my fathers’ social side and good times and friends coming my way.
Just a minute! I have to put on my face… January 30, 2008
I started wearing make-up when I was thirteen years old.
My first eyeshadow was a teal colour. I applied it every morning. I marched into that Grade 8 classroom with my teal eyes shimmering and my confidence level through the roof. That colour looked terrible on me.
Soon after that, I bought eyeliner and mascara. I discovered concealer and foundation. Then I tried powder and I traded my teal eye shadow for a nicer pink colour my mother helped me pick out.
Somewhere between 14 and 21, I found out what cleanser, toner, and moisturizer did to my skin. It cleared my complexion and smoothed out the lumps and bumps of my skin.
Now my daily routine involves washing away the dirts and impurities of my skin and putting on a mask. I disguise that zit on my face, and I soak the oil with powder to make it not so shiny, and when my eyes are looking a little droopy I apply some foundation under my eyes.
Just now, I’m looking over my life and wondering how many pallates of colours I have been through, how many gallons of foundation has passed over this skin and then washed away, how many make-up brushes I have lost in the bathroom and on on my travels, how many zits I have actually had that were covered by caky concealer, and just how much money I have spent.
It must boggle the minds of men everywhere to see women trotting around with a layer of make-up on their face. I wonder to myself if men every wonder if the woman they have their arm around, or the girl on the date they are paying for, would look the same without the thickening mascara and the complexion smoothing foundation. I wonder sometimes, what a man thinks when they see a woman leaning over a counter or dresser applying make-up like it’s a lost art. I wonder sometimes what those men think, when it’s all washed away, and the make-up is gone, and they watch us wake-up just to apply it all again.
Woman wake-up. Woman wash face. Woman moisturize face. Woman apply make-up. Woman apply make-up during the day. Woman comes home and washes make-up away. Then it all happens again the next day.
Now if you excuse me, I see I need a touch-up.
Hello! I’m Shitty… January 30, 2008
When I say “Shitty”, don’t get worried. I happen to have a very high sense of self-confidence and self-esteem. In fact, some may say, it is a borderline attitude problem (my mother being one of them!).
I coined the nickname in my first year of college. I was sent to interview two characters from The Trailor Park Boys. One was Mr. Layhey. Somehwere in the interview, he called me Shitty MacDuff. He then started telling me about a character named MacDuff in a Shakespeare play. My friend was with me. He spread that nickname through the class like wild fire, and the next thing I knew, when people said “Shitty”, I said “yeah?”
It lead me into my second year of college. Just seconds into meeting up with my friend from first year after our holiday, I heard the word “Shitty”.
Among Lolly, Lala, Larry, Duffer, Duffy, Duff’s Little Sister, MacMuffin, and MacDuffer, I proudly added “Shitty” to the list.
I just turned 21 years old. All my friends are calling me an old fart, and yesterday I changed my Facebook status to “is an old fart” to prove it.
Usually when people write these beginning blogs, they tell their audience a little about themselves. Well I’d like to say some things about me too, but it goes beyond just where I am from and what I am up to today.
I’m a goofball. I have a sense of humour that nobody really understands other than my very best friends, who usually laugh AT me rather than WITH me. I laugh at things like people falling on the sidewalk, funny bumper stickers, people who walk into a room from the cold who have their glasses fog up, the movie Mr. Bean’s Holiday, and puppies falling backwards off of porches. I have been known to laugh until my stomach hurts and there are mascara stained tears rolling down my cheeks. When someone asks “what’s so funny?” it’s probably just something like “I stubbed my toe for the tenth time today”.
My favourite books are produced by the Oprah Magazine. The first is titled “Oprah: Live Your Best Life”. I bought it for five dollars at Value Village. The second, “Oprah: O’s Guide to Life”, I scoped out at the mall. It was on sale at Coles for 50% off. Jeremy, a guy I’m still seeing, and was starting to see at the time I saw the book, didn’t know what to think when I stopped bug face in the Mall and spent the last few dollars in my bank account on a book that weighed ten pounds and that I had to lug around the mall. I started reading the book immediately.
The books are collections of the best of Oprah Magazine over a year long period. I’m a Journalism student. This just makes sense! Don’t hate me beacuse I’m beautiful, hate me because I have books that belong in a 50 year olds bookshelf!
I love pictures. It’s me at the party snapping photographs and it’s me on Facebook with all the albums. I love photographs so much that I’m sure if I added up the amount of money I spent on them, I could have probably paid for my first year of college (I think this may be an over estimate but for the sake of getting my point across, please go with it!). I love photos because they tell a story at that time. They speak of friends that you had, and that you overcame. They spell stories without words of families who have loved and lose, undertook and overcame. They can make you smile and make you laugh, and are a treasure to those who hold them to their hearts.
Hello. My name is Shitty, and I’m a shopoholic. Writing this, I’m wearing a pink, brown, and white coloured shirt I bought at Dynamite today. Beside me is a new pair of jeans and a t-shirt I purchased as well. I love the mall experience. I love buying new clothes. They can make you have a new level of confidence, or just make you look nice. I find it fun to hunt down the best deals. It’s a great way to bond with friends, or spend some alone time with yourself. I love the “retail therapy”.
I listen to “the oldies”. There is nothing like the real old 60’s tunes to wake you up on your way to school, or shake you out of a sad mood.
Those are my odd quarks. I’m sure that these blogs will expose more of my little qurks, but for now, I’ll just leave it at that.
Cheers!
Hello world! January 15, 2008
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