1. Getting misty every time I walk around the neighborhood.
2. Humming "Memories" to myself, frequently.
3. Frequently to the point that I become distracted, trying to remember if, when Tom Hanks sings to his mom in Big, it was Barbra Streisand's "The Way We Were," or "Memory" from Cats.
4. Oh, whatever, you sit there all haughty because the titles are different, but "misty watercolor memories of the way we were" and "memories of my days in the sun" are CONCEPTUALLY SIMILAR.
5. Don't even get me started on my issues with Cats. Or that a cat is, in that song anyway, telling us that if we touch her, we'll understand what happiness is. And seriously, that is the least of my problems with Cats.
6. Googling to find the answer regarding my song question, and then discovering this gem.
7. Watching many episodes of My Drunk Kitchen. ("So, the worst part about baking is everything about baking.")
8. Trying on basically all of my shoes for no apparent reason.
9. Same with my Princess Kate Hat.
10. Admit it, you want to invite me over for tea now, don't you?
11. It's okay! Don't fight it! Such is the hat's power! Can you, please? So I don't have to pack? I like tea!
12. Eating sesame sticks like it's my job.
13. Hovering over the "checkout" button on account of this dress, but -- upon further consideration of white linen in August in New York -- letting sanity prevail.
14. Buying this instead.
15. Making packing LISTS. (That totally counts for something, I don't care what you say.)
16. Reading my old journals under the guise of Organizing, but really, so I can read my poetic gems, such as "Angst," which, no, will never, ever get old.
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15 comments:
I wish I had written Angst simply because I want my twitter bio to read "The uninvited flock to me" - omg.
Those "jellicle cats" can kiss my ass.
And wait, was there a Boys 2 Men reference in that old journal? Awesome.
I just realized that Tom Hanks' girlfriend in Big was CELIA FUCKING HOADES.
This post is a gift.
Why didn't you read "Angst" out loud at BlogHer? Why? WHYYY?? To make up for that missed opportunity, you can definitely post a video of you reading it dramatically. In costume. Please.
"Angst" is amazing. I would rather read that type of beauty than pack as well.
Signed,
Someone with several volumes of similar poetry
Go back to school. Promise that if I assign you some homework, you'll feel oddly and urgently compelled to clean and pack.
I mean, you have a barfchild. How can you be expected to do anything other than buy yourself that J.Crew dress???
I...can't...help...myself...would you like to come over for tea?
(YAY! You're moving!)
I am crying too. I love where you lived until now. It has been a great little town, good friends, birth of your children, great apartments. Memories, like the corners of my mind...
I'll be waiting and the top of the bridge, not ready to jump but to catch you and the rest of your wonderful family in my arms. You will make new memories here and your friends will come over the bridge and join you. love, mom
Thank you for the heads up about My Drunk Kitchen. I heart the internet!
"Yet the uninvited flock to me."
The sheer awesomeness of that line simply cannot be described.
I have many issues with Cats as well...
Gabby - Customized Family/Nanny Matching Service, serving the Tri-State area, www.goldnannygroup.com
I read that Cracked article a while back, too. Brilliant!
My 18-year-old niece began writing the world's worst poetry and posting it on Facebook after a breakup recently. Every time I make my husband listen to me read it, he thanks God that social networking sites weren't around in our teen years.
At least you had a firm grasp on spelling and grammar, though, which is more than I can say for her.
Nice article, thanks for the information.
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