Psychic Paranoia.

I'm currently working at a company that produces reality TV shows. Just now my boss came up to me and told me about this guy she just got off the phone with who wants his own show. Apparently, he's a world renowned "mentalist" who specializes in hypnosis, using the power of suggestion over people, and judging from his website, using those powers to commit statutory rape.

Sorry, but I've read WAY too many comic books to be impressed by the powers of Isreal Mandrake. As paranoid as this sounds, I would not be comfortable having someone who claims to have "influence" over people on my set, let alone give him his own TV show. Whose to say that this isn't all part of his plan? Maybe he got the meeting with my boss by using his powers to pull some strings, grease the mental wheels, and get the psychic ball rolling? I know we all create our own reality, but what if this guy is manipulating our reality via our brains, with the goal of getting his own reality TV show? If I've learned one thing at this office, its that people will do ANYTHING to get on reality TV. ANYTHING!

I recall there being a hypnotist at my Senior Prom after party, and he called a bunch of us on stage to hypnotize us. But before he could hypnotize us, he had to test which of us were most susceptible to hypnosis. Needless to say, my Dana SKULLy was far too dense and skeptical to be penetrated. I'll wear my hard head as a badge of courage when Isreal Mandrake uses his mind control powers to seize control of the company and one day THE WORLD. After all, it'll be up to me, the lowly intern, to stab him in the heart with a stake and submerge his dismembered body in the four corners of the Earth. Right? Right?

Like a pheonix from the ashes!

I know all two of you are wondering what happened to my blog page. Don't worry, everyone. Take a deep breath and try to relax. I know how many you loved the one post I made to my previous blog, but as they say in that one song, "the times, they are a changin'" (I'm pretty sure that's from a song. If it's not, please correct me. I like being corrected.)

I am less than a week away from graduating Columbia College, and I'm setting my sights on moving to LA in the Spring. I figured it is about time to make a semi-professional blog about stuff I'm working on and my career/life in general. It probably won't be that interesting, but I figured that the internet will surely have a market for the musings of a goofy, young writer who watches the History Channel too much. Sometimes I write in formal sentences as well.

Finals are baring down on me, but for the first and last time in my college career I am prepared. In previous semesters you would find me typing every paper up until the literal last minute. One time the customers of a Wabash st Jimmy Johns got dinner and a show as they watched me walk while carrying a laptop with one hand, and typing the final paragraph of my Body Movement paper with the other. I'm quite dexterous when adrenaline is coursing through my veins. But all that is in the past. This semester I have taken the time to do most of my work before finals week. My production and editing two final project, a cheesy, fake commercial for a chubby-chasing chat line, is in the can. You can expect to see it on my Youtube account (which will be getting a professional make-over similar to this blog page) very soon.

Today I am finishing a research paper I am being paid to write. After that I plan on typing a second draft to my French Revolution final paper, and then a first draft for my Dick Van Dyke research paper. In case you're scratching your heads, I am taking separate classes on the French Revolution and The Dick Van Dyke Show. Laura Petrie was not guillotined, but if she was, I can clearly imagine Mary Tyler Moore's nervous "Oh Rob!" schtick while they cart her to the town square. Tomorrow I'm tackling my final project for my Literature and Gaming: Dickens class. I still don't know how a college can cram those three subjects together, and I've been in that class for 14 weeks now. I mostly nod my head and smile during that class. I really only interject whenever one of Dickens's archetypal ice queens do something sassy. My comments usually involve a neck swivel and a triple snap, because those bitches need props yo.