I CAN Read!

illustration from Mr. Falker


I went to my first class last night, and it seems like it will be totally tolerable. The group has a good vibe, in a women-only space kind of way (thirty people, one dude...that makes him an unintentional honorary chick).

My professor is high energy, wears floaty scarves, and is not awkward at all. You know how sometimes teachers can be so awkward on the first day of class? Someone will walk in 45 minutes late and the teacher won't acknowledge them and then that person will be whispering to everyone asking questions and the teacher is obviously distracted but just ignores them anyway? My prof isn't like that at all. When people were filtering in way too late, she would stop talking, look at them, and say, "Hello! What's your name?" Nicely done.

The class is called Understanding Reading, and it's about teaching literacy K-12. She read us a children's book to start, Thank You, Mr. Falker, and let me tell you I was just as entranced as if I'd been a 6 year-old sitting on a rainbow rug. I would highly recommend getting it from the local library. It made me cry. About a little girl who has trouble learning how to read. I won't ruin the surprise ending.

We went out on Saturday to celebrate Minh's last weekend in Boston. Anchovies in the South End has yummy Italian food and wine for super cheap. A nice place to say goodbye to an amazing friend as you cry into your enormous bowl of mussels.

We just found out they don't do wine doggy bags.

That's better.


On Sunday Luke and I went to this Duran Duran press thing. It was hosted by Mix 98.5 and held at 11 am in the freezing cold Regatta Bar.

Stars.

Apparently I don't know very many Duran Duran songs. How could they NOT play Hungry Like the Wolf.

I Can't Read

I kind of dread it when people ask me if I've read anything good lately. These days I'm just really dumb and illiterate and can't keep my eyes focused on a page of text that doesn't have embedded links. I think the last full book I read was The Secret History and it was a secretly long time ago. And um...that line from the beginning of Less Than Zero about how people are afraid to merge goes through my head every time I get on the Pike. Deep. But that's pretty much the extent of my current bookishness. Maybe all that carrying around pretentious novels as badges of honor I did in my early twenties ruined the whole reading thing for me, now that I'm old and jaded and lost all my ideals. I dunno.

You know what I do like? Pictures. Images. Illustrations and photographs. I'm what you might call a "visual" person.

I could spend hours looking at these comics and sketches on featherbed's flickr. Would that count as reading something good, lately?

Discovered from this post on SBTVC, which, like I said before, I've spent far too much time reading today.

Best in Snark

Duh! Everyone knows by now that Gawker jumped the Snark. Some of their ex-writers/editors blog here, here, and here. (Oh my gosh tumblrs! Laaaame.)

Now I guess Vice is trying to get serious, so it's founder(s?) has jumped ship and created Street Boners and TV Carnage. Useful if you've been looking at the same Do's and Don'ts archives for the past three years, and are in the mood for something new, yet exactly same.

UPDATE: I just spent the last two hours of my Sunday Morning reading SBTV and it is actually useful for a lot more things. I can't think of what, specifically, right now, except maybe pooping away hours of free time. But in a good way.

Shiny Happy Emails, Furry Happy Monsters

I was one of those weird kids who didn't watch Sesame Street when I was young. I don't know if it's because I had older siblings who were sooooo over it that I was trying to look cool when I was 5. I remember one time my best friend was watching it at her house and all I could think about was what time would Three's Company and Night Court be on. I was sooo edgy in the '80s.

So I've basically missed out on an entire genre for frames of reference. Now whenever everyone wants to reminisce about their favorite muppet, I am totally in the dark.

Christina emailed me this video today, saying she's always thought it was one of the best things ever. It will enchant your eyes and ears for a full two minutes! It's magical! Exactly how are crayons made?



It also reminded me to re-watch this video that Luke and I were obsessed with for a while. Ladies and gentlemen, Furry Happy Monsters:



Also, Sarah sent me an email (all the way from Germany!) with the subject:
Freundin

And the text:
Means female friend...

aw.

Consumer-isms

Today I bought this shampoo and conditioner that I've never tried before. It said at the bottom, "FOR DRY FRIZZY HAIR THAT'S FINE."

Well, jeesh. You don't have to say it like that, shampoo bottle! Whatever happened to "Adds Volume" or "For Shiny Hair that Won't Act Dull"?

It seems like usually you buy beauty products based on physical attributes you want to have, not those you actually possess. No one wants to purchase a lip plumping lipstick that says, "For thin upper lips!"

So, I guess...thanks for the honesty, Loreal, or whichever CVS brand that had the guts to just tell me it like it is. Thanks for keeping my personal hygiene real, and my voluminous hair aspirations grounded.

Absorb a Little

Design*Sponge is hands-down my favorite new website. Introduced to me by Christina. My favorite part is the sneak peek category. You basically get to snoop around someone's sweet apartment and read what they have to say about it. It makes me want to be crafty and designerly. The whole darn site makes me want to...craft something!

Design*Sponge is a digest of every home magazine and HGTV episode I would read/watch, but it takes out the mind-numbing quality of those things and injects some inspiration instead. I like it!

Things That I Hope I Do

Consider this my New Year's post. Resolutions optional.

1.Visit Sarah in Dresden
2. Visit Minh in L.A. (related: Why oh why must she move to la?)
3. Go on sabbatical with Abby to nyc
4. WRITE, as in put words into sentences into paragraphs into stories that I have been wanting to write
5. take more classes at UMass, I guess
6. Hang pictures in my apartment
7. Take pictures with my non-digital camera
8. Figure out what job I actually want to have
9. Buy a new iPod
10. Buy these boots
11. Fix my bike by spring: this involves: pumping air into tires, replacing the bike seat, putting lights on it for night time riding, and buying a new helmet

Juno

Juno was the last movie I saw in the theater. I really really loved it a lot. In fact, I have been known to say such things about it as: "I would watch that movie a hundred times." At work one day, some co-workers were talking about Juno, and how funny it is.

You know what?

I cried like four times while watching Juno. Even when it was happy, I was crying. I mean, it was funny too. But it was mostly sad, with a chance of funny. I loved the Kimya Dawson songs, too. Ellen Page? She is just so pretty. Perfectly pretty. Michael Cera's role was grossly underwritten, and if that was on purpose it wasn't obvious enough.

Last night, I watched Hot Rod on TV. It wasn't anywhere near as funny, sad, or 100-times-watchable as Juno.

My So-Called Lameness

When My So-Called Life came out, I was 14 years old. I was in 8th grade. And I thought I was Angela Chase.

I've considered sharing this fact before, but it just seems so...unoriginal. Since I have become an adult I think I've met about 5 other women who felt exactly the same way. But still, I had the same (badly) dyed red hair. I had the same trademark bulbous nose and weird-o grunge style (It's rumored that Clare Danes had a nose job, my bulb remains healthy and flourishing). When this show came out I started tucking my hair behind my ears obsessively and pursing my lips and rolling my eyes and slouching against lockers, '90s backpack slung over one shoulder, basically just moping through the world thinking, "Oh poor me, I AM Angela Chase!"

The reason I bring any of this up, is because I've been re-watching the show through Netflix with Jill, and although I find it all sorts of guilty pleasure entertaining, I feel embarrassed for Angela. I mean, she's kind of a turd. And seeing it now, I know I was one too.

I am Fickle.

Tumblr just never felt like home. I am fickle.