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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘the people I love’ Category

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.

 

brudder

Wednesday, May 31st, 2017

I’m going to see my brother in Portland on Saturday!

Mostly, I suspect, we’re going to watch movies and drink? We’re really good at watching movies together.

When I was in high school, my health teacher lived down the street from us. (This is going somewhere, I promise.) Health class in Nederland was medium* pointless. Nobody didn’t know what sex was – a kid in my actual health class had a mom who was only 13 years older than him, and we all knew exactly how that happened. No parents protested the banana condom lesson. Our questions in the anonymous question box (did all health classes have that?) were less ‘are boy and girl nipples the same?’ and more ‘Miss Bonnie, when you blow your husband do you spit or swallow?’

Two things.

  1. I actually didn’t really know what was going on, I just pretended I did. Like, I knew Vince’s mom had sex when she was young in order to be a 28 year old mom of a 15 year old, but that’s about it. I was a gigantic tiny-baby-prude. When someone told me you could get condoms for free from the nurse, I GASPED LOUDLY and said ‘in HIGH SCHOOL????’. I once called my brother a dildo because I heard someone at school say it and thought it was just, like, a jerk? My mom had to remove herself from the room to crack up before she was able to yell at me.
  2. I was terrified of Bonnie, the teacher. She knew shit, you guys. When you’re a tiny-baby-prude, an adult who knows shit is both your life goal and the thing to be avoided at all costs.

Because we were the kids who lived down the street, once she knew I existed, Miss Bonnie asked me to housesit for her.

My fear made me an excellent housesitter. I cleaned up after myself religiously lest I dirty some surface Bonnie and her husband were going to do-grown-up-things-on, for example. I kept my eyes down in every room but the living room and guest room, just in case there were … sex toys hanging from the ceiling? I don’t know why I did that, we’d have to ask 15 year old Emma. I kept going, though – she paid like $25 a day because she had a million plants and in the summers they traveled a lot. Eventually they got a cat and I started spending some nights and daring to turn on the TV, even. So brave.

One weekend that I was there, my brother came over and he and I watched In The Mouth of Madness. It scared the shit out of us. I’ve seen it several times since and don’t really understand why – probably it was because it was the first time we’d watched scary movies without our parents accessible just down the hallway. I think he actually ended up staying on the couch because he was too scared to walk the quarter mile of mountain road back to our house and I sure as hell wasn’t going to walk with him.

(Also, I’m not a good sister sometimes.)

Anyway, that’s the first time I remember realizing that we had good movie vibes. Some people just can’t watch movies together – they want to talk when you don’t or vice versa, they think what’s scary is funny or what’s sweet is saccharine, whatever. I like watching movies with my brother. We’ve got good snark when snark is what’s required, but also good silence. Plus, we’re both wildly susceptible to jump scares.

BOO.

Anyway. I’m going to see my brother, and we’re going to watch movies. And it’s going to be great.

*medium pointless, not totally (also hi)

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.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thursday, November 24th, 2016

If I’m not stuck in the Baltimore airport, I’m in Buffalo enjoying mince pies and pinot noir with Crockett’s and his family (married people do that you know).

Hope whatever you’re doing, it’s just as great.

Love all y’all!

fulllllsss

Sunday, November 20th, 2016

We’re going to New York to have Thanksgiving on the actual day with Crockett’s fam, so we had Thanksgiving with my parents in Colorado today.

They left a little while ago, I’ve changed into a gigantic flannel shirt, and we’re watching the David Blaine thing that’s new on Netflix. Basically, it’s super bedtime, although it’s actually 5:56. Are we doing this wrong? This is how my Thanksgiving ends every year – with me so full I can feel the volume of food in my rib cage, not just my stomach area. Is that how it’s supposed to go?

On a related note, are two Thanksgiving dinners going to make it so I am no longer satisfied with a normal volume of food? I’ll be like a snake! (Or my old roommate!) One big, delicious meal every 24 hours (and a bottle of liquor if you’re the roommate) and done?

I need a nap. A ten hour one, probably. If you love yourself and sour things, make this pie.