I spoke with my internship adviser yesterday and she wants me to write for her. I need an internship that is commercial with editing and web design because it pays, and I do care about it, especially if it is a social organization. They will get more than 10 hours a week from me and I will learn more and maybe end up with a job later!
I am excited to write for my adviser. She liked my polished works on my family and wants to polish them some more and help me do some magazine work. No one will read my work in 100 years, but she says that is not the point. It's about being able to relate to people now. I read some of Erma Bombeck's work and I used to get hysterical over it, but now it seems dated. That is also the beauty of Erma's work; she wrote for her audience at the time and even though she is dated, she still reaches out to people over the generations. Motherhood hasn't changed that much since she was going it in the 50's, 60's and 70's.
Putting together a a resume. It is depressing. I feel like I have done nothing with my life, and then I have to break it down into "relevant experience" and get people who can vouch for me. My writing only speaks for itself. I have pieces on my work with Hospice-type-care, but my clients are dead, their families have since moved and I wasn't with Hospice per se! I am feeling so completely invisible and useless. My clients are all dead. I cannot fathom anything that I have done. My baby brother (who is almost 40) said that he passed his journalism classes because of me, so he can be a reference, then I suppose my mother can be since she is now a writer and has me see everything before she sends it off. They are family. That being said-- I am a student and they expect me to be a student.
Perhaps I ought to put the energy into this resume that I am putting in to procratinating and maybe I will get somewhere. I feel so pointless. I feel so sad and in need of avoiding the resume that I want to do a staistics lesson. I need a gallon of Davidson's Spiced Peach Tea and some cookies.