The Rumors Are True...I'm Actually Alive

It's my hundredth post, which I've been putting off for quite a while. I had it in my head that it should be special, reflective, or even thoughtful. 

But then, life happened. 

In this life, I somehow became a real Parkie. 

I guess I became a Parkie technically when I chose the school last year. Maybe it was even first semester, when I dabbled in shows and wrote up some articles. It still didn't feel like I was consumed by the idea. I wasn't totally integrated yet. Then, on Monday, after my sixth hour in Park, I looked at my friend during a t.v meeting and wondered out loud, "Doesn't it feel like you never leave?" 

Suddenly I was a Parkie. 

Then, this morning, I stumbled over to Park at 5:45 in the morning, all the while wondering if the building would be unlocked. I wrote up my newscast with blurry eyes, being serenaded by WICB and read it through a few times. Then, on air, I realized that I should really wake up because some of the grammar I used was absolutely comical.  And I forgot to write down how to sign off. Yesterday's WICB cast was definitely the best I've done. I even said nuclear correctly. My mom called me after my first cast and reminded me that I said it like I had grown up under the George Bush administration. So now, I write it out phonetically. I do the same with Rod Blagojevich.  I've officially caught the radio bug. I guess I'll have to blame my Amma for that one. 

It's funny because I had absolutely no intentions to ever do radio. EVER. I ended up at the rush night this semester because the Ithacan was meeting directly after. Now, I'm doing two newscasts a week and working for a TV show that has a radio counterpart. I honestly couldn't be happier with it. If only everything in the world wasn't on Mondays. Because guess when the Inquirer tapes. Monday nights. 

Someone upstairs thinks this is totally hilarious. 

I must say, if I look at my situation objectively, I am mildly enthused.

And exhausted. 

Thank God it's the weekend!