This morning I was listening to NOW That's What I Call Emo, Volume One. I'm working on volume two (it's an apartment-wide effort) and the whole thing is making me feel so good. Listening to these songs made me feel younger. I realized that I haven't outgrown the music; it remains meaningful. It makes me happy that Owlie feels similarly, and that we can reminisce together. We aren't so old after all.
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Speaking of Ms. McGee, oh shit, we're having our first sizeable party. Usually we have people over to watch Buffy, but this Sunday marks our foray into bigtime soirees. We're having a heritage potluck/X-Files party. The twist is that each person must bring a dish representative of his or her heritage.
Being a German vegetarian, I was in a pickle. Fake sausage? Gross. Plus, who likes German food? I mean, really. The stuff is nasty and heavy. So I toyed with the idea of feigning Frenchness (chevre/champignon crepes) but have decided to go with apple strudel instead. To compensate for the not-so-exciting dish, my cat is going to make a dish. His name is Mikan, which is Japanese. I'm going to make sushi and tell everybody that he did it. Sushi is much more impressive than strudel.
True confession: I was once as obsessed with the X-Files as I am now with Buffy. So much so that poor Evan delighted me by accompanying me to the X-Files convention. He was a very good sport about it.
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Speaking of Ms. McGee, oh shit, we're having our first sizeable party. Usually we have people over to watch Buffy, but this Sunday marks our foray into bigtime soirees. We're having a heritage potluck/X-Files party. The twist is that each person must bring a dish representative of his or her heritage.
Being a German vegetarian, I was in a pickle. Fake sausage? Gross. Plus, who likes German food? I mean, really. The stuff is nasty and heavy. So I toyed with the idea of feigning Frenchness (chevre/champignon crepes) but have decided to go with apple strudel instead. To compensate for the not-so-exciting dish, my cat is going to make a dish. His name is Mikan, which is Japanese. I'm going to make sushi and tell everybody that he did it. Sushi is much more impressive than strudel.
True confession: I was once as obsessed with the X-Files as I am now with Buffy. So much so that poor Evan delighted me by accompanying me to the X-Files convention. He was a very good sport about it.
Ooh boy, Examination of The... is coming to the Fireside Bowl. For some reason, I've been heading back to hardcore during the past week or two. Maybe Owlie and I will traipse to a show during the next month.
It's sometimes difficult to connect with people who are completely unaware of punk or hardcore culture. Even though I'm not immersed in it anymore, the music and that time still means a lot to me. I recently met some people from San Diego, and so I babbled BLAH BLAH CRIMSON CURSE DOO DOO DOO SWING KIDS ROMULANS, only to receive blank stares in return. Then I felt like an arse.
So you know, I tried to explain what the subculture was, but it was so difficult. I talked about fests, and one person thought I meant something like Coachella. I didn't know how to describe the feeling of being eighteen and having the world constrict to a church basement with some kids watching other kids screaming their lungs and life out. Maybe that's just it: who can explain the way your heart threatened to burst at eighteen, doing anything, anywhere?
Now, if you'll excuse me, it is time for some light German dance-pop.
It's sometimes difficult to connect with people who are completely unaware of punk or hardcore culture. Even though I'm not immersed in it anymore, the music and that time still means a lot to me. I recently met some people from San Diego, and so I babbled BLAH BLAH CRIMSON CURSE DOO DOO DOO SWING KIDS ROMULANS, only to receive blank stares in return. Then I felt like an arse.
So you know, I tried to explain what the subculture was, but it was so difficult. I talked about fests, and one person thought I meant something like Coachella. I didn't know how to describe the feeling of being eighteen and having the world constrict to a church basement with some kids watching other kids screaming their lungs and life out. Maybe that's just it: who can explain the way your heart threatened to burst at eighteen, doing anything, anywhere?
Now, if you'll excuse me, it is time for some light German dance-pop.
Oh goody! I completely forgot! This Friday is my annual exam with Dr. Kamel. She is my gynecologist, and I actually look forward to slipping into the stirrups when she's involved. She's just an awesome, feminist, cool woman. The first time she did my exam, she said things like "Women need to be prouder of their bodies" and "Vaginas are beautiful!" The one odd thing about the office is that it is in the same building as the Playboy offices. I always feel as though the people in the elevator are looking at my boobs.
In other bosom news: when my mom came to visit this Sunday past, she grabbed my left breast. Owls McGee witnessed this. Mum claims that it was merely an accidental brush, but I think it's suspicious, to say the least.
In other bosom news: when my mom came to visit this Sunday past, she grabbed my left breast. Owls McGee witnessed this. Mum claims that it was merely an accidental brush, but I think it's suspicious, to say the least.
It seems like it's been longer than a month since I last wrote here. April was long and mostly wonderful. The first week brought a trip to see old friends in New York City, an old friend of a city itself. I spent a lot of time walking around in the balmy air, remembering a fair amount of geography but also staring at a blank space in the sky. I miss that city and the alive feeling it demands of the people traversing its streets.
Karinsa and I moved into a new apartment that reminds me of my old Brooklyn neighborhood. We live on the top floor of a building. The living room has a skylight and views of the Chicago skyline. I like a lot about this apartment and the life we'll live within it: the short commute to work, its proximity to the places where we hang out, the friendly neighbors. It seems like fortune that Summer is coming, bringing boundless opportunity for good times. Even though they come every year, the warm months never fail to feel wonderful.
A special shout-out to my mother, whose water broke almost twenty-four years and twenty-four hours ago. much love also for tomlin pere for his virility.
as ever,
annie at newdream.net.
read: norwegian wood, haruki murakami
hear:"pillow," capitol k; "freefall," saloon
be: happy.
Karinsa and I moved into a new apartment that reminds me of my old Brooklyn neighborhood. We live on the top floor of a building. The living room has a skylight and views of the Chicago skyline. I like a lot about this apartment and the life we'll live within it: the short commute to work, its proximity to the places where we hang out, the friendly neighbors. It seems like fortune that Summer is coming, bringing boundless opportunity for good times. Even though they come every year, the warm months never fail to feel wonderful.
A special shout-out to my mother, whose water broke almost twenty-four years and twenty-four hours ago. much love also for tomlin pere for his virility.
as ever,
annie at newdream.net.
read: norwegian wood, haruki murakami
hear:"pillow," capitol k; "freefall," saloon
be: happy.
