HM Magazine Intern Diary: 7.10.09

Hmm, let’s forget about this week, ‘mkay?

Every time I said “Oh yeah, I’m gonna start writing my three stories now!” or “Oh yeah, I’m gonna post pictures from Warped Tour!” those were lies. Always something to keep me from doing either of those.

So, I make no promises for this weekend. I might make it out to the He Is Legend/Drop Dead, Gorgeous show at Emo’s tomorrow night, I might not. I might watch the Cubs-Cardinals game tomorrow afternoon, I might not. Who cares if it’s the only Cubs game I’ll likely get to watch before going home?

I got music for four more album reviews: Between the Trees, Hawk Nelson, Castanets and Skillet. So those will need to get done too, though again, the no promises thing.

I got a bunch of album reviews, including U2, The Devil Wears Prada, Emery and The Chariot from the last two issues posted, so there’s some proof of an accomplishment from this week.

Lord Save Us From Your Followers alternated between making me angry at being an American Christian and giving me hope that maybe all’s not lost, so it at least did a better job than most commentaries on Christian culture lately at not being completely depressing.

Have a better weekend,
Corey Erb

“Don’t use words too big for the subject. Don’t say ‘infinitely’ when you mean ‘very’; otherwise you’ll have no word left when you want to talk about something really infinite.” – C. S. Lewis

HM Magazine Intern Diary: 7.9.09

Ugh! When it’s not spiders, it’s skunks, and while it’s still skunks it’s ants! My girlfriend thoughtfully sent me the ingredients to make that dirt/mud dessert, which was an old favorite in grade school, and I just yesterday got around to making it. But tonight after an otherwise productive day, I opened the cabinet to find a bunch of ants carrying off the bag of Oreos she crushed to make the dirt part.

So instead of the hot food I was looking forward to, I’m sitting here reluctantly eating my peanut butter sandwich and dried fruit because that’s the only “meal” I could throw together since I have yet to check to see how much of my other food is salvageable. Wonderful.

The Ranch smells a bit less like skunk today, though there are definitely still areas where the smell is uncomfortable. I just hope the skunk isn’t living anywhere under the house.

Other than all that mess, today was somewhat productive. I finished transcribing the Showbread interview finally, but I have a lot of work ahead of me since the notes and transcription are 13,830 words combined and I have to whittle it down into a 1,200-word feature. But I guess that’ll leave some interesting stuff to be posted online as a full Q & A.

I spent a good amount of time determining which album reviews have been turned in, assigning anything that hasn’t been reviewed and inquiring with any delinquent writers on the whereabouts of their reviews. I guess I should count myself with the delinquents since I have three new reviews to get done ASAP. One of the reviews is Skillet’s Awake, which came in this package for me the other day:

I’m not a PR major, nor should I be, but I don’t understand why they’d pay $7.10 to send a can of Rockstar with the CD. I could understand if Skillet was on the can, or at least if they went the ghetto route and slapped a Skillet sticker on the side. But to just randomly spend the extra $5 per kit to send an energy drink along with the review CD? Maybe they think jittery reviewers give more positive reviews. Don’t think I’ll try it, 280 calories of sugar would put me in a coma. I don’t think I’m very articulate or nice when I’m passed out.

Tonight, I’m going to try and forget my urge to go hunt down and murder every last ant in a 5-mile radius and watch the movie Lord Save Us From Your Followers while picking out pictures to post from Warped Tour. Probably not a smart idea since I could use some reassuring and I’m way frustrated with photo editing, but I’ll let you know how it goes.

Not not counting the days until I leave this deathtrap,
Corey Erb

“Treat the other man’s faith gently; it is all he has to believe with. His mind was created for his own thoughts, not yours or mine.” – Henry S. Haskins