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emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for the ‘I have a pop culture problem’ Category

thanks, that was fun

Sunday, July 2nd, 2017

I wonder if I was any good when I sang in a band.

Indications that I *was*:

  • The boys whose band it was actually let me join and I did audition first and everything
  • People clapped?
  • Sometimes people bought me drinks?
  • We were in a battle of the bands and didn’t get kicked out after the first round

Indications that I wasn’t:

  • Literally everything above can be explained by the fact that I was a 24 year old woman who was willing to wear short skirts and wholesomely flirt with a whole room full of people simultaneously (<- real skill, still have it … think I could spin a TED talk outta that?)
  • WE DID PRIMUS COVERS – how could I possibly have done those well? Primus is a) not meant for a female alto and b) the worst

I was going to see if our old website was still out there so I could glory in pictures of myself in pinstriped skirts and mens ties as belts, but there’s a new band in Denver that seems to have co-opted our name. Which is weird, because The Take didn’t make that much sense as a name the first time around – we were constantly having to explain it. The boys were constantly, constantly high and I think they came up with that and ‘Barefoot Dan’ and made me choose between the two options. Actually, I guess it’s pretty reasonable to think that the new The Take got there the same way …

I’m going to start a new band, and it’s going to be me playing guitar as well as possible (so, you know, poorly) and doing nothing but solo versions of Barenaked Ladies covers. I *am* going to call it Barefoot Dan, because I have no better ideas.

If THAT takes off, we’ll know I’ve got skills and the sky’s the limit, babies.

instagram

Wednesday, June 21st, 2017

Instagram vs Snapchat.

One of my very bestest friends is an avid snapper, and I was trying to put my finger on why I don’t snap now but I am all over insta like a … a … well, someone who posts a lot on insta.

I do post a lot, especially lately. I mean, I don’t know what a LOT a lot is, but I post two or three times a day most days. Is that a lot (she asks as if she wants reassurance but she really doesn’t)?

I guess I think of insta like a diary. Facebook used to be a diary. For example, six years ago today on Facebook I posted the status ‘iPad, check. Toothbrush, check. Camera… SHIT.’ Obviously I was going somewhere (sailing I think), and I forgot my camera! That’s a fun tiny blurb, yes? No? Yes. But Facebook is mostly for pictures and sharing political links now (and it’s dead, right? Let’s all agree. It’s basically dead. Our grandparents are on it and we are parents of people who are also on it. It’s Main St USA and no one actually thinks it’s cool to be on Main St.)

The thing about Instagram is: it stays and pictures are unambiguous. Filtered, yes, but if you were with someone or not with someone or home or in Portland, that’s permanently represented.

The thing about Snapchat is: it goes away.

I get the appeal of that, but I also feel like it’s part of the issue about space women are constantly struggling with. When you snap, you’re putting something into the world that says ‘heeeeeyyyy guys here’s a thing if you wanna look at it but if you don’t don’t worry it’ll be gone pretty soon so don’t worry about it if you don’t want to ’cause …. yeah anyway thanks byyyeeee’.

I could be wrong. It could (always) be my personal awareness of taking up space in the world. I’m a woman who, despite her best intentions, worries endlessly about the effect my very presence has on other people. Am I too loud? Is my skirt too distracting? Am I talking more than I should?  Does my new tree bug my neighbors? Does my new shampoo smell? It’s tiring, and Snapchat is a relaxing way to show people things. It’s easy to think ‘oh no one has to see this if they don’t want to’. However, by that same measure, Snapchat doesn’t tell any kind of story about you or your life.

So Instagram. Insta is the diary-est of all the available diaries.

(Excepting a blog but WHO BLOGS ANYMORE?)

So, Instagram. People can opt into you without you doing the same and vice versa. Everyone loves a sunset and dogs and yoga, which makes it feel like a wonderful place to *also* love all those things. You’re easy to scroll over, but also anyone who cares can roll back through months or years of what you’ve been up to, and you can too.

None of this touches on the overwhelming desire to share in the first place, of course. I’m always aware of what the perception of my pictures might be, and I’m open to it. This blog is over a decade old – I’m a committed sharer and the reasons are between my and my psyche.

I just … want to leave a mark.

God I’m old.

But still cute. You can confirm on my insta.

ice cold I roll my eyes at you boy

Tuesday, June 6th, 2017

Picking songs that other people are going to listen to is VERY STRESSFUL.

Like, I think I have good taste in music, but literally no one doesn’t think that about themselves. If they thought what they liked didn’t show good taste, it would thoroughly undermine the entire concept of good taste and that would be the nucleus from which the end of the world sprouted. (No? Are you sure? Like, double check quantum physics and get back to me. I don’t fully understand quantum physics but I went to an engineering school and am pretty sure someone there told me once you could use them to explain any damn thing you wanted, and this is the quantum-music-taste hill I’m going to die on.)

When I was in Portland with my little brother last weekend we had a whole app based youtube queue set up on his chromecast (<- today in sentences Emma from ten years ago would think were gibberish).  We were all adding, and it was skewing rap heavy because that’s mostly what he and his friends listen to. I could have backed off and let it happen, but I wanted to contribute and also not to listen to rap for four hours.

(I don’t dislike rap but I have a hard time staying engaged when there’s not a through melody. Like, I’m a huge Childish Gambino fan, but my brother hates him… I guess he’s intro rap? Because … of the melody? I know it’s shocking, but this is NOT something we covered in engineering school. All your preconceptions blown, right? Right.)

My approach was either great song or great video. I went retro a couple of times (Leave the Biker), full on pandering at least twice (see Lana del Ray and the Jenny Lewis video with Anne Hathaway and Kristen Stewart (a combo that surprisingly fills the needs of most people who like girls? Can I get an amen?)), and I’m not embarrassed to admit I appealed to my brother with people we’ve seen together.

That is way too much thought.

Literally, what is the worst thing that could have happened? That my brother’s friends didn’t think I was cool? I’m his older sister – they were pretty decided on the coolness of me long before now. (Probably I won some of them over when I looked super fly in a suit as his best man a few years ago.)

These are phases I go through. It’s like I’m scared, sometimes, to take up too much room in the world. To make someone do literally anything that’s not exactly what they had planned.

Probably I need to switch over to some Blondie. Some Tegan and Sarah. Some Tove Lo. Sometimes it’s ok to play your own song.

 

spoilers here (gilmore girls)

Saturday, November 26th, 2016

I had so many things to say.

My friend Megan and I watched the new episodes of Gilmore Girls today, and I thought I had a lot to write about love and family and work and then we hit the last ep.

Guys, I’m not kidding, spoilers in spades.

“Mom, I’m pregnant.” Look, if you don’t watch I can’t give you enough background to make the full weight of that felt. If you do watch, you are fully, 100% in the what the fuck camp right now, right?

Thing 1: there are no more Gilmore Girls. We will never know, is it Logan’s or was there a Jess intermission (<- Emma’s wishful thinking).

Thing 2: WHAT HAPPENS. Is this the end of Rory’s desire to be a journalist? Are we supposed to assume that the book is a success? Guys, I have books that people can buy. I mean, they’re not on …. well, any lists … but still. That one memoir? From someone no one has ever heard of? She’s not making a living off that, especially if she has a baby and can’t write a follow up. Plus, think of the secrets she’s going to inadvertently reveal to Luke when he eventually reads it because he’s so proud. 

Anyway. We accidentally drank two bottles of wine while watching so … more mañana.

who has more than everything

Friday, November 25th, 2016

Let’s jump right in. Last time on inside Goop, we (me, I) provided useless commentary on many of GPal’s suggestions … here’s the rest! (Should we talk about how inside Goop has been dead since nablopomo ’10? no? good, cause I’m Frankensteining that shit.)(Also, why did I commit to such a long post on a day no one is anywhere near the internet? For the archive readers, I guess? Because I’m an idiot? Who can say for sure.)

Gift Guide For Lovers:

 The Host Gift Guide

  • I don’t necessarily object to a mixed oils kit. I love a good self care system as much as the next girl. What I’m not crazy about is the caption: For the inevitable, holidays-induced anxiety attack. Say what now? Is it just me, or does shit like that reinforce stress for people who have it and create a weird expectation for people who otherwise wouldn’t have it? NO, it’s not just me. Knock it off, guys. Let stress appear organically, ok?
  • Is this a city thing? A leather strapped merino sweater to keep your double wine cool on the subway? Because out here in the wild west, we put our wine on the floor of our car when we drive to parties, just like everyone else.
  • Four ceramic ice cream cones for $100? I’m so damn torn. Hand one: ridiculous. Hand two: if someone would just buy me the $400 ice cream maker I’ve been eyeballing since PASTRY SCHOOL (honestly I would not make very much ice cream, it’s the right call that no one has purchased this for me) then this would be the perfect way to serve said ice cream.

 The Personalized Gift Guide (I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but nothing had the name Emma on it when I was a kid. People frequently thought my name was short for Emily. Therefore, this is kind of my sweet spot.)

  • Custom dyed bedding is NOT my sweet spot. I can only imagine if someone bought this for me and Crockett, and literally offered the entire Pantone color wheel to choose from. We’d never get sheets. Ever. These $500 sheets are for the decisive. And possibly the single.
  • As a person who wore a signet-ish ring as an engagement ring for a year recently, I recommend against. They’re lovely but man alive are they not as comfy as normal rings. Thumbs down. Also, psa: I’m 99% sure you cannot wear a signet ON your thumb.
  • These shoes claim you can put a custom image on them, but based on the pictures, they’re actually the shoe version of a high school ring. In that as long as your custom image is selectable from a clip art list, you’re good to go. If they’re actually custom, why are we only seeing a smily face, stethoscope, and kiss lips? And if they ARE from clip art, how do they take FOUR MONTHS? These shoes are confusing.

The Thinker Gift Guide (this is insulting to anyone who wants to shop from the other guides, right? “Smarty guide and the rest of you”?)

  •  Writing utensils! Smart people put words down into a way other people can read them, it’s a truthy truth from GPal’s fingers to your eyeballs. (She 100% did not write that, also. What I said OR whatever the goop site says about the pencils.) Also, it’s an $85 brass ball point pen and the like, if you’re getting link fatigue. I am.
  • Very heavy paper weights for your very heavy thoughts that you put in paper form!
  • A drawing kit made of nothing but black, like … your soul? Your feelings? Are colored pencils only for the simple, GPal? Smart people can get their point across without all that nuance?
  • A pot box. That’s fun.

The one we’ve allllll been waiting for …. The Ridiculous but Awesome Gift Guide

  • Dennis Hopper’s record collection. DENNIS HOPPER’S RECORD COLLECTION. It’s $150,000, it’s 110 records, you don’t get to know what most of them are, they’re all ‘as is’, and Dennis Hopper was the bad guy in Speed. No part of this makes sense. (Plus, there’s only one and it’s still available. I’m would have thought some overly committed overly moneyed GPal enthusiast would have snapped it up by now?)
  • Our [$2995 leather wrapped] Bicycle is great for cycling enthusiasts, either as fashionable transportation or as a sculptural decor element.” Crockett says: the snozzberries taste like snozzberries! Also, there’s no further info about the bike. Like, what’s the frame under the leather? Steel? Aluminum? And old bike this company stole from outside their neighborhood coffee shop?
  • Yeah, we’re into this weird briefcase lap desk thing. Probably because one of the pictures looks like it could have been taken at Sparrows Lodge, the place we minimooned. I bet if GPal knew about it she’d write about it and we’d have to pay a million dollars to go back, so no one tell her.

There you go. I hope Gwennie and I just made your Christmas easier.