Short Pants Romance

Oh, Jack White, when will we be married?

Recently, I have been listening to a lot of the White Stripes, especially the De Stijl album. I love the simplicity of the lyrics, and the driving beats are core-jolting. And his voice, that sweet sound, just drives me crazy... if you can't tell. So what if he's 14 years older than me? My mom and dad are 14 years apart.

I can just imagine what my mother would say if I brought him, or someone like him, home.

This is how it would go:

Me: Mom, this is so-and-so.

Mom: Honey, are you on drugs?

I would then proceed to tell her that love has no style, no look, and that he treats me well...blah blah blah... Because he would. Jack White would be good to me; he's already been so good to me through his music.

So, Jack, if you're out there, Kat from Texas is calling. She wants her heart back.

Still haven't heard from the Rolling Stone about that internship. Maybe I was too excited, told everyone about it, and jinxed myself. That is very, very possible. I feel like I am good enough to work there. I know I am good enough to work there. I would love to write feature stories for the magazine. Man, that'd be awesome.

I love writing features. I like to share another person's story with the world. Those with the story hold a certain trust to those that write the stories. We must do them justice by portraying it as best we can. There will always be something to improve upon. There will always be things to add or take away. But to be there in the end, having breathed life into this story laying on the printer, is so rewarding. If it's well-written, you know you have served them.