Thank You My Little Ducklings

17 Jul

Whelp. This has been an interesting past couple of days.

My blog went from being read by my mom (Hi, Mom!) and a handful of Facebook friends to the 17th most visited site on WordPress (which has oh, roughly 68 million sites on the internet at the moment.) And not only did people read it, but people liked it. And not only did people like it but you guys left super nice comments* and wrote to me on Facebook telling me how much it resonated with you.

At first I was like Oh Lordy this is crazy. How did this little post about hate and Boy Meets World references reach around the world?! And then I said You dummy, wasn’t that the whole point? That words can have an affect? That thoughts and speech can have a huge impact on others?

So, thanks for proving me right kids.  And thanks for showing me that no matter how much hate we’ll see in life or in the news (sorry for that…) there will always be people to take the time to shoot you a nice “Hey, I liked what you said that one time,” e-mail.

Now that we’ve solved baseless hatred, what shall we fix next? Hunger? Is the O-Zone still in a thing that’s in trouble? Did Timmy fall down the well again?!

Let me know.

 

"What's that? You just need help unloading the groceries? Then I'm uhh...busy."

“What’s that? You just need help unloading the groceries? Then I’m uhh…busy.”

 

Now that I have broken my Tisha B’av fast and don’t feel like chomping off my own hands anymore, I can get back to the nitty-gritty task of blogging.

This year has been the first time in my life that I worked on Tisha B’av. My tradition has always been watch sad, sad, movies all day (except for Schindler’s List because to me, I couldn’t get into it, all the characters looked the same and that’s not me being racist it’s me not being used to black and white movies), go food shopping with my friend Liana, buy all sorts of nonsense food (because when you shop while you’re starving, your cart ends up being full of whipped cream, gherkins, baguettes, ravioli and granola bars) and then eat until I feel really sick vowing never to eat so much after a fast again. Ah, beautiful traditions.

This year, since I’m in Baltimore and away from my family – I went in to work at The Newspaper. Thankfully, I didn’t have to interact with too many people (and also had to resist the urge to tell my editor that my blog was getting more hits than the features section I was currently Tweeting for – because VANITY). I have learned that working is hard when your job includes Facebooking articles such as “Top 10 Ice Cream Recipes for National Ice Cream Month!” I just wanted to write “AAHH DAMN YOU ALL FOR BEING ABLE TO EAT TODAAYYY I HOPE YOU CHOKE ON YOUR SUNDAES” but I had a feeling my editor wouldn’t be too keen on that.

 

"Jokes on you because I STOLE ALL THIS CRAP"

“Jokes on you because I STOLE ALL THIS CRAP”

 

By the time I was gathering up my things at 5 p.m.– I was feeling dizzy but pretty OK…until I looked in the far right corner of the office and saw a giant deer. A giant plastic deer. I turned to Nicole, the other intern, “Do you see that deer?”

She turned to where I was pointing. “No…are you hallucinating?” she asked all concerned.

“No! It’s a deer! I see it. I’m not crazy? Am I? Is there a deer?” I started walking towards it.

Nicole started laughing, “ Yes it’s a real deer! I was just joking.”

I knew it was time to lie down.

Also, if you’re wondering why there was a giant life size deer in my office it’s because I’ve learned that journalists in a newsroom are kind of like Little Mermaids. They will decorate with random thingamabobs either given to them from movie press packets or doo-dads from home. You’re more likely to see Anchorman bobble-head dolls on cubicle walls than pictures of family. And is the case with one unknown worker whom I pass often, a cubicle full of Aquaman paraphernalia (I know right? Aquaman? Are you sure?).

 

I'd add a joke but Aquaman is his own joke.

I’d add a joke but Aquaman is his own joke

 

It is literally the most distracting thing when your trying to focus and are staring at 19 different posters of Oriole’s players. Good thing my sad little desk just has a nameplate that says INTERN. And a dictionary.

So although I still have more cake-in-a-cup to finish (I bought it by accident while nonsense-food-shopping earlier, I hadn’t decided if I wanted it in while the bakery aisle but when I was deciding the plastic top of the container accidently came off and my finger smooshed into it. And when I looked up the baker was staring at me. So, I awkwardly put it in my cart) and some homework left to finish, I just wanted to write this little post to say thanks to everyone who took the time to tell me how they felt about my post**.  And I hope we can continue this symbiotic relationship we have that I cherish.

Thank you from the bottom of my cake-in-a-cup filled heart,

Aviva

 

 

* And also telling me they weren’t happy with the curse words. Although I can’t prove conclusively that that wasn’t just my mom commenting under different names.

**Tomorrow, it’s back to writing about more shenanigans!

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