Uncreated Conscience

My mother is adorable. She’s coming into town next week on business and promised to bring with her the Korean drama (그들이 사는 세상 – The World That They Live In) we started back when I visiting my family in Los Angeles featuring my favourite actress Song Hye Gyo (송혜교). My other also recommended one called The Beethoven Virus in an email the other day.

Hey Sarah,

It was good to talk to you.
Check out the link: here

I love this drama!!
Talk to you later this week.

Love,
Mom

Oh Mum, with her multiple exclamation points and recent discovery of YouTube. My parents might be technologically inept, but they try to keep abreast of the times. (You wouldn’t believe the flurry of texts I got from “ur teenage dad” once my brother taught him to how text message people.) “The main guy isn’t that good-looking,” she warned about The Beethoven Virus, “But he’s a very good actor.”

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I spent the majority of today stuffing 1099 statements for our clients into envelopes with my fellow interns. We had a great time, gabbed about the books we loved and were looking forward to reading (Sarah Rees Brennan‘s The Demon’s Lexicon was a mention because we love the hilarity of her blog), and endured papercuts while chowing on free pizza lunch.

Just ask me how much Stephanie Meyer made in 2008. On second thought, don’t.

And because I lack the energy to make more coherent posts, a few letters:

Dear LOST:

I WISH I COULD QUIT YOU. You’re like an abusive boyfriend or a leech best friend; I give and I give and I give and I give of my time, love, devotion, and affection and I never get a damn thing in return. You never answer my questions, you sneak about my back, and yet I can only sit here week after week hoping for an answer.

Much, much, much love (even if you drive me crazy),
JJ

Dear Potential Client:

Plz to be typing your manuscript in a legible font. Kthnx.

No love,
JJ

Dear Back:

Stop it. Stop acting up right now.

No love,
JJ