On that same note, my coworker/friend recently pointed out to me a massive oversight on my part. Weezy and the predator look just alike!!!! How have I never seen this? Really, y'all. Really.
SHOP: PLANT CORNER ON LENOX AVENUE
3 years ago
Showing posts with label una lamarche. Show all posts
Showing posts with label una lamarche. Show all posts
Friday, October 15, 2010
My name is Weezy but I ain't asthmatic
So I've got a guest post up today over on Una's blog, The Sassy Curmudgeon. I wrote about my recent STD testing (serious) and how it interwove nicely with the release of a Weezy song named after an STD (not as serious). Hope you like.
On that same note, my coworker/friend recently pointed out to me a massive oversight on my part. Weezy and the predator look just alike!!!! How have I never seen this? Really, y'all. Really.
On that same note, my coworker/friend recently pointed out to me a massive oversight on my part. Weezy and the predator look just alike!!!! How have I never seen this? Really, y'all. Really.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
7 Things I'm Willing To Share With Complete Strangers Because I'm A Blogger And I Have A Psychological Thing Where I Compulsively Overshare
So, my blog idol Una over at The Sassy Curmudgeon gave me this lovely award the other day.
Now, in general, I really appreciate and love blog awards - because they are created by loving readers - but I also acknowledge that they're not, like, official awards. The only official ones I've gotten were the Blog of Note, which Blogger so gracefully gave to me in December, and, more recently, an award in the form of a link from The Washington Post. I mean there's no badge to go along with that one, but still, I felt like I won something because it's the fucking Washington Post. (Even though someone was really punkind and told me in my comments that my puns suck. Yeah, well, you fucking suck, fucker.)
So ANYWAY. I never really understand the point of the awards except that they make me feel good. Until Una gave me this one; this one actually comes with rules. You have to follow-up and actually write stuff: namely, 7 interesting things about yourself. I fail to see how I am in any way remotely "interesting," but I'm gonna do it anyway because, honestly, I've been hurting for material recently. So, I'm gonna scrounge through the depths of my existence and find 7 things that might generally be classified as pieces of interest. Just to set the tone, here's a freebie: for a period of time in the eighth grade, I classified Final Destination as my favorite. movie. ever. And saw it multiple times in theaters. We may now proceed.
1. When I was little I stepped on a snail in my driveway and it crunched under my shoe and I still feel a shit ton of guilt about it.
The worst part about it was that I did it just because I could. I was probably like 7 or 8 - because in my childhood memories, I'm always fucking 7 or 8 - and I distinctly remember walking up my parents' driveway and seeing this approximately monster-sized snail vaguely in the path of my feet. I thought to myself, Oooh that snail is really really big. I bet if I stepped on it, it would make a loud crunching sound and feel very satisfying under my foot. So I did. Then I felt really bad and started crying and ran upstairs to tell my mom what I did. She reassured me that it was OK, and told me not to step on any more snails. But still, to this very day, I feel so fucking guilty about it. I also can't deal with any form of animal cruelty. Like I have to cover my eyes when that Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial plays on the television, or I just completely leave the room. I'm sure all of this is somehow related.
2. I was madly in love with Justin Timberlake way before he became Justin Fucking Timberlake - back when he was in *NSYNC and had that tragic fro thing going on.
I have this bizarrely vivid memory of lying in my bed as a sixth grader, listening to Brian McKnight's Back At One - oh, you remember that shit - on my portable CD player and imagining that Justin was my boyfriend. I used to have fantasies about him kissing me on the *NSYNC tour bus. Mannnn I was so cool. And then in the 9th grade I actually saw *NSYNC live and in concert, and I was in the eighth fucking row. It was almost just as good as a tour bus kiss, LBO.
3. The very first thing I ever wrote was called "San Fransisco Kitty."
Also, it was a song. The very first memory I have of writing anything was writing a song dedicated to a cat who, for some unknowable reason, lived in San Fransisco. I think it even had a melody, though at 5 or 6 - branching out! - I obviously had no idea how to write music. All these things seem like an uncannily appropriate foreshadowing of my adult life, which is filled with music, gays and probably, at some unknown future time, lots and lots of cats. Sigh. Also, it's entirely possible that Schmom B. still has this original written manuscript stored away somewhere. I should ask her.
4. In high school I was really pretty trashy and owned lots of clothing emblazoned with the Playboy bunny insignia, including a visor, and I also had a belly button ring.
I was on the dance team, and we performed with the marching band (I know, I just keep getting cooler) and my senior year our benevolent band director decided to let us all dress up for Halloween and perform the halftime show in our costumes. Naturally, I went as a Playboy bunny. I was told I had to cover my ass or I couldn't perform. Predictable, but prudeish. What the fuck, Alabama public school? I really wish I had a photo of this, but alas, this was before the days of Facebook, Twitter and digital photos in gen. So instead here is a photo of a vintage bunny, from back in the day when it was generally considered a badass occupation.
5. I once got called a compassionless cunt - oh yes, that's a direct quote - by someone I had never actually met via an online dating site.
True story. 'Nuff said.
6. I'm secretly a super sappy romantic, even though I may sometimes come across as cynical and suspicious of other people who are also super sappy romantics.
I also give the best gifts ever when I love someone. One of my exes told me at one point that he liked to collect little rocks from all the different places he visited, so I went around our hometown to all the places we had been - on our first date, our second date, his favorite bar, where we parked in cars, whatever - and gathered a few rocks from each location. I then bagged them all up individually in pretty little mini bags - which, PS, I crafted myself from mesh paper - and wrote a note for each one explaining where the rocks came from. There were probably like 10 bags in all. Hmmm. In retrospect, I sort of gave my boyfriend bags of coals for Christmas, but they were sweet bags of coal! Also in retrospect, he's a huge idiot for breaking up with me, and probs deserved actual coal.
7. I sometimes divide up the letters in text messages, IM conversations and tweets into multiples of 8, and count them as I type.
I like for things to be divided evenly into eights; I blame this on the fact that I've been a dancer since I was four, and in dance, things are typically divided up into 8-counts. Like 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, then it starts over. Around middle school, I started counting in my head the letters I type in multiples of eight, starting over with each eight-count. I actively try to compose IM messages in even multiples of eight. What?! I said sometimes, not all the time. Stop looking at me like that. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.
In conclusion: I may or may not be interesting, but at the very least I am definitely a total fucking weirdo. Thanks for reminding me, Una.
Tagging a few others:
Blog Soulmate Hannah at My Soul Is A Butterfly
Successful Snarkist Jessie at 20-Nothings
Hilarious Hipster Lauren at Hipstercrite
Perfect Peter (Who also holds the distinct honor of being one of only two male bloggers I read regularly, and who also made me pick the word "perfect" to describe him here, even though I really wanted to use the word "picky") at PeterDeWolf.com
Now, in general, I really appreciate and love blog awards - because they are created by loving readers - but I also acknowledge that they're not, like, official awards. The only official ones I've gotten were the Blog of Note, which Blogger so gracefully gave to me in December, and, more recently, an award in the form of a link from The Washington Post. I mean there's no badge to go along with that one, but still, I felt like I won something because it's the fucking Washington Post. (Even though someone was really punkind and told me in my comments that my puns suck. Yeah, well, you fucking suck, fucker.)
So ANYWAY. I never really understand the point of the awards except that they make me feel good. Until Una gave me this one; this one actually comes with rules. You have to follow-up and actually write stuff: namely, 7 interesting things about yourself. I fail to see how I am in any way remotely "interesting," but I'm gonna do it anyway because, honestly, I've been hurting for material recently. So, I'm gonna scrounge through the depths of my existence and find 7 things that might generally be classified as pieces of interest. Just to set the tone, here's a freebie: for a period of time in the eighth grade, I classified Final Destination as my favorite. movie. ever. And saw it multiple times in theaters. We may now proceed.
1. When I was little I stepped on a snail in my driveway and it crunched under my shoe and I still feel a shit ton of guilt about it.
The worst part about it was that I did it just because I could. I was probably like 7 or 8 - because in my childhood memories, I'm always fucking 7 or 8 - and I distinctly remember walking up my parents' driveway and seeing this approximately monster-sized snail vaguely in the path of my feet. I thought to myself, Oooh that snail is really really big. I bet if I stepped on it, it would make a loud crunching sound and feel very satisfying under my foot. So I did. Then I felt really bad and started crying and ran upstairs to tell my mom what I did. She reassured me that it was OK, and told me not to step on any more snails. But still, to this very day, I feel so fucking guilty about it. I also can't deal with any form of animal cruelty. Like I have to cover my eyes when that Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial plays on the television, or I just completely leave the room. I'm sure all of this is somehow related.
2. I was madly in love with Justin Timberlake way before he became Justin Fucking Timberlake - back when he was in *NSYNC and had that tragic fro thing going on.
I have this bizarrely vivid memory of lying in my bed as a sixth grader, listening to Brian McKnight's Back At One - oh, you remember that shit - on my portable CD player and imagining that Justin was my boyfriend. I used to have fantasies about him kissing me on the *NSYNC tour bus. Mannnn I was so cool. And then in the 9th grade I actually saw *NSYNC live and in concert, and I was in the eighth fucking row. It was almost just as good as a tour bus kiss, LBO.
Christ, WTF Justin?
3. The very first thing I ever wrote was called "San Fransisco Kitty."
Also, it was a song. The very first memory I have of writing anything was writing a song dedicated to a cat who, for some unknowable reason, lived in San Fransisco. I think it even had a melody, though at 5 or 6 - branching out! - I obviously had no idea how to write music. All these things seem like an uncannily appropriate foreshadowing of my adult life, which is filled with music, gays and probably, at some unknown future time, lots and lots of cats. Sigh. Also, it's entirely possible that Schmom B. still has this original written manuscript stored away somewhere. I should ask her.
4. In high school I was really pretty trashy and owned lots of clothing emblazoned with the Playboy bunny insignia, including a visor, and I also had a belly button ring.
I was on the dance team, and we performed with the marching band (I know, I just keep getting cooler) and my senior year our benevolent band director decided to let us all dress up for Halloween and perform the halftime show in our costumes. Naturally, I went as a Playboy bunny. I was told I had to cover my ass or I couldn't perform. Predictable, but prudeish. What the fuck, Alabama public school? I really wish I had a photo of this, but alas, this was before the days of Facebook, Twitter and digital photos in gen. So instead here is a photo of a vintage bunny, from back in the day when it was generally considered a badass occupation.
5. I once got called a compassionless cunt - oh yes, that's a direct quote - by someone I had never actually met via an online dating site.
True story. 'Nuff said.
6. I'm secretly a super sappy romantic, even though I may sometimes come across as cynical and suspicious of other people who are also super sappy romantics.
I also give the best gifts ever when I love someone. One of my exes told me at one point that he liked to collect little rocks from all the different places he visited, so I went around our hometown to all the places we had been - on our first date, our second date, his favorite bar, where we parked in cars, whatever - and gathered a few rocks from each location. I then bagged them all up individually in pretty little mini bags - which, PS, I crafted myself from mesh paper - and wrote a note for each one explaining where the rocks came from. There were probably like 10 bags in all. Hmmm. In retrospect, I sort of gave my boyfriend bags of coals for Christmas, but they were sweet bags of coal! Also in retrospect, he's a huge idiot for breaking up with me, and probs deserved actual coal.
7. I sometimes divide up the letters in text messages, IM conversations and tweets into multiples of 8, and count them as I type.
I like for things to be divided evenly into eights; I blame this on the fact that I've been a dancer since I was four, and in dance, things are typically divided up into 8-counts. Like 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, then it starts over. Around middle school, I started counting in my head the letters I type in multiples of eight, starting over with each eight-count. I actively try to compose IM messages in even multiples of eight. What?! I said sometimes, not all the time. Stop looking at me like that. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.
In conclusion: I may or may not be interesting, but at the very least I am definitely a total fucking weirdo. Thanks for reminding me, Una.
Tagging a few others:
Blog Soulmate Hannah at My Soul Is A Butterfly
Successful Snarkist Jessie at 20-Nothings
Hilarious Hipster Lauren at Hipstercrite
Perfect Peter (Who also holds the distinct honor of being one of only two male bloggers I read regularly, and who also made me pick the word "perfect" to describe him here, even though I really wanted to use the word "picky") at PeterDeWolf.com
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
The Haus of Meghan
It's no secret at this point that I am obsessed with Lady Gaga more than I've ever been obsessed with any artist in my life. I dressed as her for Halloween, and spent a good six hours bedazzling my bra for the occasion. I have purchased not one but two hair bows from the Internet to wear on two separate occasions. I am getting my Gaga-inspired hair bow tattoo on March 6. Whether it's right or not, in my eyes, Gaga can do no wrong. She represents, for me, everything I want to be and achieve artistically in my life. And this is all due in no small part to what she calls her Haus of Gaga.
The Haus of Gaga is basically Gaga's closest group of friends. They are all creative types and they assist her with everything she does - making her outfits, designing her stage, deciding what element of performance art to play with next, and generally inspiring her music and art - but Gaga emphasizes that these are her closest friends, from back in the day when she was just little ole Stefani Germanotta. Here's a clip of her explaining it in an interview.
The most elusive truth about artists is that no artist can work alone. Every artist over the course of history - whether a poet, playwright, painter, dancer, musician - has had a group of people around her who inspired her work and helped her be the best artist she could be. While I have only recently realized that I would like to think of myself as an artist - for a long time I found the term "writer" sufficient, but lately I've been wanting to devote my entire life to creation and art - I've had a Haus for a long time. I haven't been fully aware of it the whole time, but I started building it more than five years ago. Or, more accurately, the universe started building it for me, and now that I have a clearer idea of the things I want to do with my life, I could not feel more fucking blessed. I want to introduce them to you.
Christine is my BFFFFFF. She came into my world five and a half years ago - which is really hard to believe - when we lived next door to each other in the dorms freshman year. We seemed like polar opposites - I was really girly and wore a lot of pink and big hoop earrings and my blonde hair in stupid ponytails - and she was sort of punky and loud, with a really short haircut and a rather unique sense of style. But we were drawn to each other for some reason - I had never met anyone like her - and we quickly became really good friends. She's easily the most amazing person I know. She's unique and creative - she writes haikus and designs pillows and decorations for her house and stuff - but she also has one of the biggest hearts I've ever encountered. She's a social worker, so she spends all her time trying to improve the lives of those less fortunate than her - which is obviously very inspiring in itself - but beyond that, she treats every person she comes into contact with with an incredible amount of respect and love. She's the least judgmental person I know. She inspires me because she reminds me of the best parts of myself, even during the rough times.
Zachary
Zac has been my BFF for almost three years now. For the longest time, we worked together at the student newspaper in college but were not friends; I never really talked to him because I was shy and weird, resulting in him thinking I was a huge bitch. But once I broke the seal by coming to his birthday party in August 2006, we slowly became friends, gradually building until the spring of 2007, when we became really good friends and I started to realize that we probably had the same brain. We would finish each other's sentences and sometimes say the same thing at the same time, and in the fall of 2008, after an epic dance night at a trashy gay club in Jackson, Mississippi, we realized we were dance soulmates and our relationship was basically cemented. He inspired the original name for Hautey Toddy, as well as being my co-conspirator on the Bloglossary, which (BTW) was born way before this blog in the fall of 2008. (It's still a work in progress, of course.) He continues to inspire me every single day with his biting sense of humor, incredible intelligence, and fearless pursuit of his goals. He reminds me all the time of why I'm in New York.
Jenny
My friendship with Jenny was born a little later than mine and Zac's. Zac and Jenny come as a pair, basically, but right after the three of us got close she moved to New York and left Zac and me to fend for ourselves in Oxford (bitch). She and I didn't talk that much (or at least not nearly enough) the year I was at Ole Miss with Zac, but after I moved up we swiftly became BFF again. She is easily the most successful of the Haus. While in college she was the photo editor at the student newspaper, and she shot all the production shots for the theater department. Since then she has worked her way up to photo editor at Broadway.com, where she regularly shoots lots of broadway shows and famous people on red carpets. She also shoots a lot of stuff on the side, always working to create beautiful new images and improve her craft. In addition to being an incredibly talented photographer, she is one of the sweetest people I know. I have recently decided she is like my mom in New York, because she always hugs me and kisses me and makes me delicious food. She honestly doesn't have a mean bone in her body, which is something you can't genuinely say about many (most) people.
Una
Una LaMarche is literally the singular reason this blog is what it is now (um, sort of good? or all right at least?). I met her through work, and discovered she had a blog after we became friends on Facebook. I can remember last September, sitting at work on slow days and reading every single post she had ever written. That is not an exaggeration. I saw myself in her, and quickly realized that she's the person I want to be when I'm 29. Her amazing voice - hilarious, truthful, nerdy, at times awkward - helped me to find mine, and was the catalyst for taking BtoA from a journal-y type personal blog to a broader conveyor belt for the human experience, at least as I encounter it in New York. She is a brilliant writer. Remember her name: U-n-a L-a-M-a-r-c-h-e. She also writes for the Huff Po. You will see her name again, if not on the next big sitcom or semi-reality-mocumentary-but-it's-actually-fake television series then on the cover of a bestselling book over a somewhat awkward photo of a child with a unibrow.
Jessie
Jessie is without a doubt the most go-get-'em writer I know. She's the creator and writer of 20-Nothings, a blog dedicated to the sometimes-funny-sometimes-really-fucking-sad trials and tribulations of single/dating 20somethings in Manhattan. Since I've known her, she's written several plays, penned at least 12 monologues, and published a book based on her blog. So she's a blogger, a playwright, and a published author. What the fuck? Oh, and she's 26. Oh, and she also got her blog optioned to be turned into a television show at some point. Oh, and she has an "agent." I don't even really know what that means. Bottom line: the girl can write, and not only that, but she knows how to make shit happen. She is one of the main reasons I was inspired to write a play based on one of my blog posts, the production of which (PS) is still TBD.
Hannah
Hannah Miet is my blog soulmate. I discovered her blog randomly last August, clicking on it from another random blogger's list of favorites. I quickly realized this discovery was not random at all, but something along the lines of fate: the first things I learned about her were that she lives in New York, she's attracted to women in addition to men, and she loves Beyoncé. Um, duh. I stayed late at work one day and read through post after post after post, and realized we had too many uncanny things in common. I e-mailed her that we should meet for drinks, and we did, and we got drunk, and we talked about love and life and writing. Since then we've met for drinks an additional time, and kept in touch via twitter and e-mail and all that. She inspires me because she openly dabbles in the darker sides of life and New York, and because, of course, she's a brilliant writer. She's inspired me to explore parts of myself and my writing that I probably would not have otherwise, and to be open about my feelings on my blog. Her words also helped me through a tough emotional time, and I still sometimes recite them to myself when I'm having a hard time of things (true story, Hannah). Remember her name too. You will see it in black and red someday.
Brittany Bell
Brittany is another fellow Ole Miss graduate, but we weren't really good friends in college since she was a year above me and I didn't really run with most of the theater kids. But we've gotten close since I moved to NYC, and I feel confident saying she's a total, hilarious, crazy mess. An amazing actress, she can distort her face like no one else I've met in my entire life. You scoff, but it's really fucking impressive. Oh, and she can rap. Like legitimately, she could have a rap career if she really wanted to. She has also been known to cry whenever Empire State of Mind comes on in the bar, which just means she has a huge heart and she loves this city just as much as I do, if not more. She wholeheartedly believes in her dreams and in her craft, and for these reasons she is truly inspirational.
Susan
The Haus of Gaga is basically Gaga's closest group of friends. They are all creative types and they assist her with everything she does - making her outfits, designing her stage, deciding what element of performance art to play with next, and generally inspiring her music and art - but Gaga emphasizes that these are her closest friends, from back in the day when she was just little ole Stefani Germanotta. Here's a clip of her explaining it in an interview.
The most elusive truth about artists is that no artist can work alone. Every artist over the course of history - whether a poet, playwright, painter, dancer, musician - has had a group of people around her who inspired her work and helped her be the best artist she could be. While I have only recently realized that I would like to think of myself as an artist - for a long time I found the term "writer" sufficient, but lately I've been wanting to devote my entire life to creation and art - I've had a Haus for a long time. I haven't been fully aware of it the whole time, but I started building it more than five years ago. Or, more accurately, the universe started building it for me, and now that I have a clearer idea of the things I want to do with my life, I could not feel more fucking blessed. I want to introduce them to you.
Christine
Christine is my BFFFFFF. She came into my world five and a half years ago - which is really hard to believe - when we lived next door to each other in the dorms freshman year. We seemed like polar opposites - I was really girly and wore a lot of pink and big hoop earrings and my blonde hair in stupid ponytails - and she was sort of punky and loud, with a really short haircut and a rather unique sense of style. But we were drawn to each other for some reason - I had never met anyone like her - and we quickly became really good friends. She's easily the most amazing person I know. She's unique and creative - she writes haikus and designs pillows and decorations for her house and stuff - but she also has one of the biggest hearts I've ever encountered. She's a social worker, so she spends all her time trying to improve the lives of those less fortunate than her - which is obviously very inspiring in itself - but beyond that, she treats every person she comes into contact with with an incredible amount of respect and love. She's the least judgmental person I know. She inspires me because she reminds me of the best parts of myself, even during the rough times.
Zachary
Zac has been my BFF for almost three years now. For the longest time, we worked together at the student newspaper in college but were not friends; I never really talked to him because I was shy and weird, resulting in him thinking I was a huge bitch. But once I broke the seal by coming to his birthday party in August 2006, we slowly became friends, gradually building until the spring of 2007, when we became really good friends and I started to realize that we probably had the same brain. We would finish each other's sentences and sometimes say the same thing at the same time, and in the fall of 2008, after an epic dance night at a trashy gay club in Jackson, Mississippi, we realized we were dance soulmates and our relationship was basically cemented. He inspired the original name for Hautey Toddy, as well as being my co-conspirator on the Bloglossary, which (BTW) was born way before this blog in the fall of 2008. (It's still a work in progress, of course.) He continues to inspire me every single day with his biting sense of humor, incredible intelligence, and fearless pursuit of his goals. He reminds me all the time of why I'm in New York.
Jenny
My friendship with Jenny was born a little later than mine and Zac's. Zac and Jenny come as a pair, basically, but right after the three of us got close she moved to New York and left Zac and me to fend for ourselves in Oxford (bitch). She and I didn't talk that much (or at least not nearly enough) the year I was at Ole Miss with Zac, but after I moved up we swiftly became BFF again. She is easily the most successful of the Haus. While in college she was the photo editor at the student newspaper, and she shot all the production shots for the theater department. Since then she has worked her way up to photo editor at Broadway.com, where she regularly shoots lots of broadway shows and famous people on red carpets. She also shoots a lot of stuff on the side, always working to create beautiful new images and improve her craft. In addition to being an incredibly talented photographer, she is one of the sweetest people I know. I have recently decided she is like my mom in New York, because she always hugs me and kisses me and makes me delicious food. She honestly doesn't have a mean bone in her body, which is something you can't genuinely say about many (most) people.
Una
Una LaMarche is literally the singular reason this blog is what it is now (um, sort of good? or all right at least?). I met her through work, and discovered she had a blog after we became friends on Facebook. I can remember last September, sitting at work on slow days and reading every single post she had ever written. That is not an exaggeration. I saw myself in her, and quickly realized that she's the person I want to be when I'm 29. Her amazing voice - hilarious, truthful, nerdy, at times awkward - helped me to find mine, and was the catalyst for taking BtoA from a journal-y type personal blog to a broader conveyor belt for the human experience, at least as I encounter it in New York. She is a brilliant writer. Remember her name: U-n-a L-a-M-a-r-c-h-e. She also writes for the Huff Po. You will see her name again, if not on the next big sitcom or semi-reality-mocumentary-but-it's-actually-fake television series then on the cover of a bestselling book over a somewhat awkward photo of a child with a unibrow.
Jessie
Jessie is without a doubt the most go-get-'em writer I know. She's the creator and writer of 20-Nothings, a blog dedicated to the sometimes-funny-sometimes-really-fucking-sad trials and tribulations of single/dating 20somethings in Manhattan. Since I've known her, she's written several plays, penned at least 12 monologues, and published a book based on her blog. So she's a blogger, a playwright, and a published author. What the fuck? Oh, and she's 26. Oh, and she also got her blog optioned to be turned into a television show at some point. Oh, and she has an "agent." I don't even really know what that means. Bottom line: the girl can write, and not only that, but she knows how to make shit happen. She is one of the main reasons I was inspired to write a play based on one of my blog posts, the production of which (PS) is still TBD.
Hannah
Hannah Miet is my blog soulmate. I discovered her blog randomly last August, clicking on it from another random blogger's list of favorites. I quickly realized this discovery was not random at all, but something along the lines of fate: the first things I learned about her were that she lives in New York, she's attracted to women in addition to men, and she loves Beyoncé. Um, duh. I stayed late at work one day and read through post after post after post, and realized we had too many uncanny things in common. I e-mailed her that we should meet for drinks, and we did, and we got drunk, and we talked about love and life and writing. Since then we've met for drinks an additional time, and kept in touch via twitter and e-mail and all that. She inspires me because she openly dabbles in the darker sides of life and New York, and because, of course, she's a brilliant writer. She's inspired me to explore parts of myself and my writing that I probably would not have otherwise, and to be open about my feelings on my blog. Her words also helped me through a tough emotional time, and I still sometimes recite them to myself when I'm having a hard time of things (true story, Hannah). Remember her name too. You will see it in black and red someday.
Brittany Bell
Brittany is another fellow Ole Miss graduate, but we weren't really good friends in college since she was a year above me and I didn't really run with most of the theater kids. But we've gotten close since I moved to NYC, and I feel confident saying she's a total, hilarious, crazy mess. An amazing actress, she can distort her face like no one else I've met in my entire life. You scoff, but it's really fucking impressive. Oh, and she can rap. Like legitimately, she could have a rap career if she really wanted to. She has also been known to cry whenever Empire State of Mind comes on in the bar, which just means she has a huge heart and she loves this city just as much as I do, if not more. She wholeheartedly believes in her dreams and in her craft, and for these reasons she is truly inspirational.
Susan
Last but most definitely not least is Susan, the amazing lady who gave me my first-ever paying magazine job (read: internship) in the city last March. We worked together for a few months before I got hired full-time in June, and now she's moved on to bigger and better things with a kick-ass job at The Knot. Since she left my company, we've gotten closer as friends (weird how that happens) and I've grown to like her more and more as I get to know her better - an extremely rare and therefore meaningful experience for me - and I learn that she is hilarious, quirky and painfully honest. Yesterday, she sent me the following text message: "I just bought two trays of Vday cupcakes because they were BOGO. New low??" To which I responded: "Girlllllll. You are seriously my soulmate." And anyone who knows me knows how true that statement is. I kind of owe her everything about my life in New York, because if it weren't for her I may still be - shudder - unemployed. And if I were unemployed, I would be spending all my time on Craigslist instead of writing blog posts and plays and going to staged readings of my friends' monologues and posing for photos and shooting video and generally living an amazing art-filled life. So thanks, Suz.
Love and art,
2.16.2010,
Lady Meghan
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I still prefer a beer and whiskey on Rivington Street
GaGa was on SNL last night. I didn't catch the show live, but basically the first thing I did when I woke up this beautiful Sunday morning was check her facebook for any video updates. Now, the latest installment in a long series called "why I'm fucking obsessed with Lady GaGa and will nigh be getting a GaGa bow tattoo and prepping my HLLWN costume and oh yeah did I mention my GaGa shrine in the corner of my room?"
For this appearance, she rewrote some of the lyrics to Pokerface to reflect her love for New York City. Here they are:
Born in New York in Lenox Hill of '86,
Cheered for the Yankees with my dad in section six,
And after traveling, just dancin' round the world,
I still prefer a beer and whiskey with my friends on Rivington Street
I miss every little thing about this city,
Subway trains, the girls are pretty,
Love the hot dogs on 72nd street, they're tasty and they're cheap,
Was just a waitress on Cornelia, now I'm living my dreams baby,
Singing bout my pokerface...
I went out last night with my new friend M to my blog idol's hubby's first photography show in Brooklyn, followed by drinks on the Lower East Side, not all that far from Rivington Street. It was one of those amazing New York nights, with new friends, new experiences and the cool fall air making everything feel fresh and beautiful. As I sat at our table in the bar next to an open window, I looked out at the taxi cabs creeping along Houston Street, the beautiful people smoking their cigarettes and the guy devouring his slice from a paper plate, and I was so filled with love and adoration for the life I now live that I nearly started crying into my whiskey sour.
It's just that I have wanted to live here since my very first visit to the city, and here I am. It surrounds me at all time and it pumps through my veins, it pisses me off and it makes me deliriously happy, it stinks and it's beautiful. There are doubts in any healthy relationship, but eventually you get to a point where you just know if the other person is the one for you - or not.
New York is the one for me.
For this appearance, she rewrote some of the lyrics to Pokerface to reflect her love for New York City. Here they are:
Born in New York in Lenox Hill of '86,
Cheered for the Yankees with my dad in section six,
And after traveling, just dancin' round the world,
I still prefer a beer and whiskey with my friends on Rivington Street
I miss every little thing about this city,
Subway trains, the girls are pretty,
Love the hot dogs on 72nd street, they're tasty and they're cheap,
Was just a waitress on Cornelia, now I'm living my dreams baby,
Singing bout my pokerface...
I went out last night with my new friend M to my blog idol's hubby's first photography show in Brooklyn, followed by drinks on the Lower East Side, not all that far from Rivington Street. It was one of those amazing New York nights, with new friends, new experiences and the cool fall air making everything feel fresh and beautiful. As I sat at our table in the bar next to an open window, I looked out at the taxi cabs creeping along Houston Street, the beautiful people smoking their cigarettes and the guy devouring his slice from a paper plate, and I was so filled with love and adoration for the life I now live that I nearly started crying into my whiskey sour.
It's just that I have wanted to live here since my very first visit to the city, and here I am. It surrounds me at all time and it pumps through my veins, it pisses me off and it makes me deliriously happy, it stinks and it's beautiful. There are doubts in any healthy relationship, but eventually you get to a point where you just know if the other person is the one for you - or not.
New York is the one for me.
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