This Facebook note from September, 2009 is a little longer. It’s an I-piece, to get categorical on your butts. I wrote this piece about my going to the MTV Video Music Awards- a sort of preemptive sike-me-up.
It’s tough trying to grow out of old boyhood dreams of wanting to be a famous musician. It would be pretty cool be well known for it. I’ll settle for just some encouraging recognition. Getting to the point now when it’s normal be cocky, talk your way toward success, and abandon your true friends, maybe I should follow the preceeding steps toward unenlightenment in order to truely rock out already. The one road block for a the starry-eyed lazy man is finding that freakishly random moment when you’re on top. Skipping the connections and contests is the way to go, yea. They call this unprecedented static representation the “Fifteen Minutes of Fame.”
The second major in journalism was a great idea whilst running back and forth from Whitmore to Bartlett buildings to immortalize the decision in code. It was the first few experiences I had writing an assigned topic at an ungodly hour of the morning that had me second guess the decision. Still cooler than the Communications major because the history of television can only be taught in so many different formats and the closer to the present I would learn the more I felt nauscious and taken.
Maybe if I just graduate already, I will finally have the energy to do one thing at a time. I used to take my guitar outside after class every day one year. I got pretty average grades. Pa asked why. I told him I had to practice. Pa didn’t like that answer very much. So the following year’s approach was to do the work because it was so easy, not blow it off. If I had left my guitar at home that year, my bedroom still would’ve been as silent as a the most haunting SBD of a fart.
When opportunity knocks, you gotta open up. I never thought it would work, thought I was doing as much good signing up for the damn thing as the free Auto World subscription I tried signing up for back in the day (which still never arrived). I have been “granted access to red carpet arrivals” at the MTV Video Music Awards next week.
Um er…faceslap. So it’s true huh? They’re going to let me on television perhaps? Do they know who I am? Will I fall in line to the producer’s rules or will I let my other side loose and do something crazy. If I were going in for this as a journalist, it would be no question. I would show up with notepads and pens, Handy Recorder and dockers shoes. Bam. Practice those questions, calm your nerves with a beer on the first sight of Puff Dizzly. I may send in some wacky report co-written by the Devil’s Advocate himself and look for a way to be noticed in the process of writing said slander toward the behemoth Viacom ritual.
In 2001, A Fordham U. student conned his way toward employment by them by tricking people at the VMAs into entering a contest to win backstage passes. He videotaped the prank, sent it to MTV and was hired as a VJ on MTVU. Not bad, not at all, but I don’t wanna be a VJ. I don’t wanna work for MTV. Why can’t I be the next Nicole Richie? She did nothing and will be sitting front row at the stupid event. If there is a way to look “badass” without risking a night in jail, I would like to know it. If none of you can top my idea of going completly naked, then I may be packing my birthday suit along to New York.