katie sharp: cover letter and clips for policymic

* Just kidding on the wine part. I want to make your lives and work easier, not messier, harder and covered in Cabernet Sauvignon. !!

Katie Sharp 7211 Twelve Oaks Drive

Fairfax Station, VA 22039 (703) 635-9358

[email protected] PolicyMic 35 West 36th St., 9th Floor West New York, NY 10018 Dear PolicyMic, As I begin this cover letter, my overly energetic six-month-old kitten keeps jumping across my laptop. It’s annoying. He has learned that he is now big enough to leap up on to this high shelf above my desk and knock everything over, including a full glass of two-day-old wine. This is the shelf where I keep all of my “dangerous for cat” things. I have recently come to the conclusion that I no longer own anything in this room because he can now jump onto this shelf. My cat can reach everything. Therefore, he owns everything and is aiming high. I’m going to use that image as a metaphor for this cover letter. After all those daily glances at job postings on Gawker’s website, I’m finally deciding to slip on my cat legs, jump up, aim high, apply to be a music writer with PolicyMic, and knock over as many wine glasses as I am able.* Over the last two years, I’ve been a part of two website editorial staffs: AnimalPlanet.com and NPR Music. In a lot of ways, these digital teams couldn’t have been more different. I went from commercial television to public radio, cute hedgehog videos to Neko Case Tiny Desks, Puppy Bowl to All Songs Considered. Regardless, the time I’ve spent working with Animal Planet and NPR’s online editorial teams has solidified that I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing: writing, editing, and producing for digital consumption. I’ve worked with several in-house CMS programs, blogged and edited interviews with television and radio talent, and contributed creative strategies to my editors and respective marketing teams. Most importantly, I’ve learned how to navigate the waters of the fast-paced world of digital journalism. Multi-tasking is absolutely key, and I am able to juggle several pieces of content calmly under pressure and deadlines. During my time at Animal Planet, I assisted in a handful of digital projects promoting sister channel Discovery’s Shark Week, creating tablet games and video playlists shared through social media. I also helped their marketing team begin their exploration into “animal cams,” which included their first KittenCam; this venture led to the creation of APL.tv, and many more cams as a result. At NPR I worked daily with member stations, including editing and re-packaging copy for WXPN’s World Cafe; I was also responsible for several varied builds (custom maps, video assets, re-designed station page) during some of their longer series. These internships have taught me the true interconnectivity of all types of web content, and that working with other organizations (be it animal shelters or radio stations) has the power to boost a consumer experience to the next level. In short: I’d love to push even further and create even more of PolicyMic’s content in innovative, intelligent and engaging ways. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Signing off, Katie Sharp !

5/18/2014 Bombadil: Scattered By Fate, A Band Regroups And Rebuilds : NPR

http://www.npr.org/2013/07/20/203347279/bombadil-scattered-by-fate-a-band-regroups-and-rebuilds 1/3

Bombadil: Scattered By Fate, A BandRegroups And Rebuilds

July 20, 2013 7:39 AM ET

by NPR STAFF

Listen NowWeekend Edition Saturday 8 min 13 sec

Melissa Fuller/Courtesy of the artist

i

Hear The Music

"Angeline"

"What Does It Mean"

Bombadil was founded by a group of friends

who met while attending college in Durham,

N.C. They graduated in 2006, released a self-

titled EP that was well-received, and soon

seemed on their way to finding an audience. But

by 2009, bassist Daniel Michalak was struggling

with an unexplained pain in his hands.

"I started noticing it during shows," he says.

"And it got to the point where I couldn't hold a

spoon to feed myself, or brush my teeth, or hold

the phone to my ear."

Michalak's daily routines became increasingly difficult — and

draining.

5/18/2014 Bombadil: Scattered By Fate, A Band Regroups And Rebuilds : NPR

http://www.npr.org/2013/07/20/203347279/bombadil-scattered-by-fate-a-band-regroups-and-rebuilds 2/3

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"I ignored the warning signs and tried to push through the pain,

rather than listening to my body," he says. "And it got worse and

worse, to the point that in early 2009, we had to stop — stop playing,

stop everything."

The band released an album that year, Tarpits and Canyonlands, to

positive reviews. But with Michalak still sidelined with what was

diagnosed as nerve damage, members of Bombadil went their

separate ways. Michalak says the months he spent getting well

were long and hard.

"I couldn't do anything. I spent a lot of time just looking at the

ceiling," he says. "I did a lot of walking. And then I had a lot of time

spent in doctors' offices, trying to figure out what was wrong."

Pianist Stuart Robinson spent that time trying to actually be a doctor.

He pursued medical school and, for a time, stopped playing music

altogether. But the bandmates remained friends, and one day,

Robinson says, he and Michalak had a big-picture conversation.

"We were talking about how it was going to be 10 years before [I

was] an independent, practicing physician. And he kind of

mentioned, 'Well, think how far you could grow a band in 10 years.'

Not just an upstart, struggling band, but, I think, something that really

existed.' "

Robinson says making music in the immediate present suddenly felt

like "a priceless opportunity." Bombadil reconvened in 2011 and

has been active since then.

The band spoke with NPR's Linda Wertheimer about its fourth

album, Metrics of Affection, out next week. Click the audio link to

hear more of their conversation.

Purchase Featured Music

Metrics of Affection

by Bombadil

purchase music

5/18/2014 A Letter To A Pothead | Thought Catalog

http://thoughtcatalog.com/katie-sharp/2014/02/a-letter-to-a-pothead/ 1/9

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Latest Thought

I Killed His Baby: How I Punished Myself After My Abortion

The least I could do was pretend to love him. It was my penance. After all, doesn’t a murdererdeserve to suffer for her crime?

A Letter To A Pothead

Feb. 20, 2014

By Katie Sharp

21 y.o. Daywalker, with a passionate love for psychedelic lo-fi and apple pie.

Read more »



shutterstock.com

Your love for N64’s Super Smash Bros is astounding. Remember that one time I came to visit

you at your friend’s house early on a Saturday afternoon? You had just started playing the

game a little bit before I had gotten there, and I could hear the screaming voices behind the

closed door at the top of the stairs. Somebody was shouting “Fuck you, Samus!” You were

Samus. You still had four lives and you were winning. Buttons were forcefully being ““pressed

and combos were being made and Luigi was falling off of some green platform somewhere.

You would lose and then you would win again. Back and forth. I watched you play that game for

so many hours and I was so puzzled by its mesmerizing hold over you. But I went with it, and I

cheered when you won and I laughed just a little bit when you lost.

That wasn’t the first time I saw you high. I remember the first time. A few of us were sitting on

the dock and talking. You emerged from the woods behind us with a friend on either side of

you, leaves rustling louder as you came closer. All three of you were looking down, hands in

jacket pockets, small coughs here and there.

You sat a few feet away from me, probably ashamed to show everyone (or just me) your eyes.

But I searched for them and met them and said something sarcastic because they looked funny

on you. A deep brown surrounded by bloodshot veins, heavy in the corners and pronounced

when you looked around. Somebody tossed you the tiniest bottle of eye drops and said, “I think

you might need this.” A drop or two here in the corner, a drop or two there. One ran down the

side of your cheek and you wiped it off with the sleeve of your favorite black jacket.



How many times had you smoked before that? I recall it not being too many, but I wasn’tkeeping track. It was a new relationship for you, a marijuana mistress seducing you into herhaze, pulling you further in with her cloudy eyes and intoxicating smell.

She comes in when the time is right, and surrounds you with other people who will also meether on the same level. Or you’ll be sitting on your bed—alone—and then she’s there, in betweenyour ears and your headphones, and you start freaking out over dumb parts of some soothingsong. Outside, she sits with you and begins to laugh and it continues, but soon you both forgetwhat was happening, so you close your eyes and stop for a second. Try to remember. It’s likeshe momentarily took that joke away but once you open your eyes, she gives it back to youwith her shaky, unsteady palm. All of a sudden, you’re laughing again.

When she’s with you, you melt into her mist and she carries you along to her favorite places,which are now your favorite places: the fridge, the back porch, the TV room with the N64console that is always on.

She taught you to like carrots dipped in peanut butter and enhanced your love for grilledcheese. One time, I witnessed you eat a whole pint of frozen yogurt and thought you might besick. Aren’t you kind of lactose-intolerant? But she calmed your stomach and when you met heragain several hours later, she sat in the passenger seat next to you while you pulled through aMcDonald’s drive-thru lane.

She makes your mouth open up just a little bit more when you’re trying to focus, if it’s figuringout a tune on the mandolin or re-reading the same paragraph a few times because you missedits message the first time around. Or when you’re sleeping. God, your mouth opens to new,unexplainable widths when you’re sleeping. Her snores become your snores.

In a way, she brings out your weird quirks. Remember that one time you found a balloon lyingaround, so you blew it up and drew a face on it? The Sharpie was beginning to run out, but youmanaged to hastily draw a mustache on the balloon-man’s face and you were so proud of yourwork. You held it up for everyone to see. I took the knit beanie off of your head and placed it ontop of the balloon. You looked at me and said, “What should we name it?” Then, a friend sittingnext to you whipped his head around, quicker than we could both comprehend. “Parmesan,” hesaid. “You should definitely name it Parmesan.”

You still joke about that name. She makes it easy to joke.

But there are some quirks you wear better that she isn’t able to provide. You still look weirdwithout her, like when you wake up in the morning and that one curl in the front of your headsticks out. It’ll stick out regardless if she still lingers from the night before. She doesn’t helpyou to smooth it out. You get out of bed and go across the room, stand in front of the mirrorthat hangs on the back of your door. Our sleepy eyes meet in its reflection and you smile at meas you try to fix it, but I say something snarky about how you just sleep in a strange way. Youtell me you sleep weird because I hog all the covers and sometimes jam my elbow into yourside. I look away and pout. But then you come back, lie down next to me and tell me that it’sway better than sleeping alone.

And in that moment, she’s not around. She isn’t there in the sheets between us as you put yourarm around my shoulder, pull me closer. I know she will leave the room when we talk about



the serious things, or what we have to accomplish in the day ahead. When she’s gone, shedoesn’t steal your focus.

So, she shuts the bedroom door behind her as she leaves. You don’t even notice her footstepsas she walks away from us, down the hallway and out the front door. You get up again briefly toput on your favorite Beatles record—Rubber Soul—and then climb back into bed with me. Ismooth your hair and you look at me with clear, unclouded eyes. We talk about howunderrated George Harrison is.

Tagged 20 Somethings, EYES, Food, Foodie, George Harrison, Going Out, Grilled Cheese,Health & Wellness, Inspirational, Intoxicating, Love & Sex, Marijuana, Music, N64, Pothead,Seductive, Sleep, The Beatles, Weed

Katie Sharp

21 y.o. Daywalker, with a passionate love for psychedelic lo-fi and apple pie.

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