Things I have come to realize: working at the Prophet is more difficult than I anticipated. The work itself is fine; I've been ready for that for as long as I can remember. Obviously I'm not doing anything of any importance yet, but I have no doubt that I'll work my way up sooner rather than later. But the Prophet is still very much a boy's club- save for, of course, the fluffier sections because clearly it is a woman's job to write about fashion and gossip and relationship advice- and I've already had people telling me that I'm trying to write for the wrong section. And if one more man calls me by some ridiculous pet name as he asks me to get him his coffee before trying to hit on me, I will knee him repeatedly in the balls. Good to know that sexism is alive and well.

On a semi-related note, my hair is now dark. Cal and I decided to dye our hair together in some weird parody of a female bonding experience. His hair is far more exciting than mine though; I'm not sure I can take him seriously anymore. Not that it was always easy to take him seriously before but.