she always told me I should be a writer

My Dad just called me at work.

My Auntie Vivian died today.

She has been my Nana’s best friend since they were 18.

She was a second Mother to my Dad.

She was a Grandmother to me.

She always told me I should be a writer.

I love her.

This song makes me think of her:

“a girl should be two things: classy and fabulous”

I’ve always admired Coco Chanel. Sigh.

As I embark on my new life as a graduate student, and therefore, an adult – I have a lot of thinking to do.

What will I do with my life? What’s after grad school? When will I pay off my credit card debt? How much money will I make? Do I want to move for my job? Will I have to quit blogging? Do I need to stop hanging out with pot heads?

But there is one question that plagues me.

Should I start shopping at Ann Taylor once I have my Masters?
I mean, it’s alright today that I’m wearing an extremely tight sweater with GAP jeans. But – this morning, Ethan called my breasts ’sweater puppies’ – and I can’t have a student thinking that during a conduct hearing.

But, I like Forever 21. And The GAP. And Urban Outfitters. And Nordstrom’s B.P. Department.

I don’t know if I have to leave these stores behind so I can be a classy sophisticate.

Can this and this  really be side by side in my closet?

Do I have to go from crazy party college girl to classy woman about town? What if I still want to wear my pink bubble dress when I’m a career woman? Will the Classy Lady Brigade come out of nowhere and send me to exile?

Will I have to watch my step everywhere I go? Will I have to stop making video blogs on facebook? Will I have to give up wearing sweatpants in public?

What happens to me after I’m a student? What happens after I say I have a Masters?

Ultimately, I’m scared that means that people will expect more of me than I’m willing to give. Doesn’t saying you have your Masters mean that you’re supposed to be proper and smart and put together?

I am none. of. those. things.

Help me, internettians. HELP ME!

pretty fly for a white guy.

Don’t worry.

The concert was the bomb. We were up close. Because Kate and I are fly.

[sorry about picture quality. iPhone photos are sketchy when there's flashing lights, son].

And yes.

I got on stage with N.E.R.D.

My friend took that. I know I’m hard to see- but I’m there. Sigh.

Pharell and I touched. No big deal.

I wanted to post these as soon as I got to work. I’ll write another post later about a different topic that’s been a’ brewin’.

Hope you all had a lovely day!

Kisses.

yo! feel this flow.

The last three concerts I’ve been to – I’ve met the artists: Bitter:Sweet, Adele & Hanson.

Tonight – I’m going to see one of my favorite artists of all time … COMMON.

[Chris - I know you feel me on this!]

I won tickets to see him and N.E.R.D. tonight in Eugene. Yes, I WON them. Not only am I going, but I’m taking my girl Kate. She’s a sorority sister of mine who I haven’t seen in a hot minute since I’m a grown up now and she’s got a year left.

She and I share a love of hip-hop that is untainted by the pop and punk that we also listen to regularly.

I saw Common for the first time when I was in high school. I went with my hip, nerdy, socially aware, friend Alex who was going to college at University of Chicago and though I haven’t heard from him in a little over a year – I’m fairly certain he’s saving the world.

I didn’t like hip-hop then. I was a punk rock girl. But Alex told me I HAD to see this guy. That Common was amazing. That he was life-changing. I put on my black Jnco jeans and dark eye-liner and we went to the Crystal Ballroom.

After the first two songs – I was in love. I was obsessed. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to know every lyric. He was absolutely intoxicating. Then, he picked three girls out of the crowd to come up on stage and sit on a couch he had up next to him.

I. Was. One.

There I was. A first time Common lover. On stage with him. Screaming. Rapping along to songs I didn’t know yet.

I am hoping to re-live this wet dream.

Now, on his new album, he has a song. A song I’m fairly certain he wrote for me. It’s featuring Lily Allen [who I love because she's fucking crazy]

So, kiddies – wish me luck. Tonight, I’m gonna strap on my stunna shades, my skinny jeans, my Lil-Wayne inspired scarf* and I’m gonna rock the hell out of Eugene and that man they call Common.

*

More love, incase you feel his flow. This is the first song of his I ever heard. Definitely one of my favorites.

This is what I’m in for tonight — I will try to take my own video. So you can be jealous. Especially you, Chris.

More!

it is better to be in chains with friends than in a garden with strangers

I swear to all of you, I have the best friends a girl could ask for.

Some of them have been my dealers, my therapists, my lovers, my enemies, my stylists, my chefs, my sidekicks, my bosses, my partners in crime.

And a few of them are the same brand of crazy.

One of them, is Miss Nathalie . Nathalie and I have had a kinship since one of the first times I ever met her. We were sitting in the commons at our University, eating cheeseburgers with our friend Matt, who happened to be the one who introduced us.

Nathalie [who is the tiniest friend I have--bitch] was eating a gigantic Double Western Bacon Cheeseburger with a Coke. A regular Coke, not a Diet Coke [bitch]. Matt leaned over to Nathalie and said:

“You’re the worst Jew ever. There is bacon, first of all. And secondarily, it is touching the beef.”

Nathalie looked up from her dripping beef and said:

“Fuck you. I do what I want. I’m a great Jew!”

I knew we would be friends forever.

Even in my worst times, Nathalie is there for me. Why? Because she gets me. We’re both neurotic, confused, self-deprecating, control freaks who are worth more than we give ourselves credit for.

We do things like scream at our partners. And our pets. We go on Cat Safari™ to ease our anxiety. We write about the people we irrationally hate. We read books written by dead people. We talk to ourselves on public transportation. We live for gossip.

As I’m growing up and into my career and my skin, I have begun to leave people behind who haven’t been what I needed. I have always surrounded myself with toxic people – and it’s always been hard for me to get rid of them. But, there are a few who are now showing me what friends should be. People who support and guide and teach and laugh.

If any of you know me in real-world life -  or even if you read this and feel like you do – thank you.

Thanks for being the people I need in my life.

In the words of my favoritest person ever, Winnie The Pooh

“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together.. there is something you must always remember. you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we’re apart.. I’ll always be with you.”

<3 to you all.

a day of calm …

Some days you wake up with a sense of calm you don’t normally feel. There’s no urgency in your step. No jitter in your voice. Things seem to fall into place.

It’s days like that. Days like today. That make me nervous.

Yesterday went so well, I would normally be convinced the worst is going to rain on me today.

But when I woke up this morning – I felt calm still.

I wonder why that is?

I think I’m starting to feel more centered. I feel independent. I feel sure. I feel ready. And most importantly — I fear less. This is huge, since the last five or six years of my life have been guided by fear and worry.

I have been drug free for a year as of today.

Maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s guiding me now.

a little break

Work is crazy, so I apologize to the 20 of you who actually read the crap I write and put on the internets. I apologize because I will probably be super busy the next few weeks and may not get daily posts up. However, I have been doing some things that will call for hilarious posts when completed:

1. Lots of listening to Pandora/rediscovering music I liked when I was 12.

2. Talking shit about people under my breath, because I trust NO ONE.

3. Eating so much Pizzicato and salad that I think I have become a walking advertisement/I smell like pizza at all times

4. Going out drinking to ease the stress

5. Hitting on the boy at the coffee shop so that I don’t spend $50 a day on espresso. I get them for freee.

6. Hoping for e-mail so that I can be distracted.

7. For some reason – I have become a bedroom phenom — the anger at work comes home. Good for Boyfriend.

Anyway – stick with me. I wish I could goof off more, but work is hard. And stressful. And I’m not being treated like the Goddess that I am.

Meagan angry! But not at you – you all are beautiful. I <3 you.

Love,
M

the things I do for love …

This weekend was supposed to be magical.

I was going to see Hanson. Yes, Hanson. SWOOOONNNNNNN

On Sunday, they were here in Portland. It was amazing, because I actually got to meet Taylor & Isaac! We also met Gus Van Sant [he knows Hanson because he directs their music videos - weird, huh?]

And the concert was wonderful. Below is my friend Nicole & I singing along with them. She got to interview them for the Portland Tribune – and we were both shaky-legged and sweating. I want their entire acoustic album played at my wedding. Don’t tell Ethan.

Anywhoo – the Portland show was amazing. I fell in love all over again – I was about to die. I could not WAIT until we made it to Seattle for the show at The Moore – because the venue is so much bigger. And we all love Seattle. Well … we did. Until I fell into the pit of hell.

The first sign of tragedy was when we got to our hotel. Granted, we knew it was near the airport and wouldn’t be the most exquisite example of hospitality. We started unpacking, and shoving ourselves into our skinny jeans in anticipation of meeting the boys again.

Then, someone started jiggling our door handle.

“We are going to be murdered” my friend Alicia whispered.

I opened the blinds, and saw a barbed wire fence and a mobile home.

“Agreed” I said.

My friend Nicole went to the door and found a handy man who didn’t speak English. He said our sink was leaking, so he could fix it tomorrow if we didn’t mind the dripping noise. We agreed that we didn’t want him near us wouldn’t mind the noise. He left.

Nicole stepped into the bathroom, only to find toilet paper on the floor and that the sink did not, in fact, run at all. So – no water. We wished for non-English speaking man to come back.

We all felt fairly uncomfortable, and had only been there about ten minutes. We decided to voice our concerns to the Manager [who, coincidentally, claimed he didn't speak much English either]. As soon as we said something about someone trying to come into our room, he started yelling.

“I hear him knock. I have on film!”

“Well, then you’ll see he didn’t knock” I replied

“Non-refundable. No refunds. You leave” he said

“I have never been treated like this! Ever!” my friend Nicole yelled, and ran out.

“Our lawyer will be calling you” I replied. And left. With our key card. Fucker.

So now, we have nowhere to stay.

I started feeling sick. I figured it was because of the stress. We drove downtown and started realizing we needed help. We called to dispute the credit card charges for Nicole, and I filed a complaint over the phone with the hotel company. I manipulated as best I could – explaining that their organization was far superior to the service we had received, and that he wasn’t living up to their standards. They apologized and said they would try to reimburse her. I’m a good negotiator.

Still, nowhere to stay. I still feel sick.

We went and got a bite to eat. We decided to stay at Nicole & Alicia’s aunt’s house. She lived nearby and had a huge house with a big TV and space. I like both of those things.

When we headed into the venue, we realized the tickets were assigned seating. The three girls I was with had purchased their tickets ahead of time – so I was sitting five rows back. Alone.

I figured at least I was here – I <3 Hanson! And I could see the girls, and was texting them throughout the show. But then – it hit.

I ran downstairs to the ladies’ room. And puked. Everywhere.

I had food poisoning. Damn Starbucks egg salad!

I threw up four more times, getting up from my miserable isolated seat to run downstairs.

The guys started playing one of my favorite songs… A Minute Without You. I was singing along with my head in the toilet.

This could not get any worse I thought.

I decided to go outside to get fresh air.

I stood outside for five minutes, breathing deep. I started to feel better, and headed back inside. I grabbed my wallet to get out my ticket for re-entry. And I heard it.

“Give me all your money”

Oh my god. I’m being mugged!

I took the $60 cash out of my wallet and handed it to the white guy in the hoodie standing behind me. He ran.

I went back inside and texted the girls. “I got mugged.”

They ran out to the lobby to comfort me. I decided to push through. Because I’m a champion.

The rest of the concert was alright. I only threw up one more time. And I didn’t miss my other favorite song, “Underneath”

We drove home that night. I got some sleep.

It was all worth it. Because Hanson is amazing.

I hope you all like the videos – and note they are much better than their “MmmBop” days give them credit for.

I will NEVER go back to Seattle again. ever. Sigh.

UPDATE:

MORE VIDEOS BECAUSE I LOVE THEM, AND I KNOW YOU’RE BORED!

prison isn’t so bad, right?

I took a class in one once, seriously.

Today – I could murder someone.

Here is why:

1. I fell on the streetcar track this morning

2. Someone opened a large, metal door into my face

3. I spilled soda on my new shirt

4. I have hair dye on my forehead. Not professional.

5. Three people said “What are you going to do about [insert their fuckup here]“

6. I deleted three very important files

7. I got five angry phone calls

8. I am behind in approximately 4, 625 tasks.

9. After all of this work: I. Am. Broke.

10. I ate a packet of children’s oatmeal for lunch. That is all.

Lord, help me.

open letter to PDA-ers

This weekend, I was lucky enough to spend time with the lovely Kiala and her hubby, Dane.

On Saturday night we went to Le Happy for crepes. I had never eaten crepes except for the strawberry ones I had at a Shari’s once. They came with green onion. But they were strawberry. I was immediately turned off.

I had a yummy smoked salmon crepe and was digging the Le Happy vibe all around. We were having great conversation, and then … horror struck mine & Kiala’s faces.

There was a couple doing unspeakable things to each other at the bar.

She was wearing a [I presume] Forever 21 shirt … but she wore it as a dress. Needless to say, I was able to tell that she does approximately 25 lunges a day. She was also wearing very tall shoes and … no  underwear that  I could see.

Her boy-toy at the time was wearing a shirt that was printed to look like tattoos. Kiala immediately hated him, because these shirts are quite possibly the douchiest things you can buy. The two of them were sucking face with the intensity of two gerbils trying to navigate a labyrinth. That was enough to gross us out while still keeping us overwhelmingly intrigued.

Then, shirt-dress girl walked to the other end of the bar where another douche they were with was sitting.

“I think she’s going to make out with him!” I squealed to Kiala.

“Oh. My. God. We’re on Blind Date!” Kiala shrieked.

We were absolutely convinced we were on some crappy dating show for the CW or Fox. She was on his lap, devouring his tongue, while tattoo-shirt was hitting on the other girl they rolled in with.

We watched in anticipation of the next move. I could not believe what we were viewing. Were we the only ones noticing? Were we imagining it? Where was my camera? Why was I getting turned on? This was too much.

Shirt-dress and Tattoo-shirt continued flirting when she was done with the other man. And Tattoo-shirt decided to slide a couple fingers in while she sat on the bar stool. My jaw hit my crepe. This. Was. Foul. Finger-bangin’ in a creperie? GO HOME. That needs to stay in private places like bedrooms, or bathrooms of bars, or taxicabs.

And then – shirt-dress girl got up to leave. But not before making out with tattoo-shirt AND their lady friend in a three way kiss! I hadn’t seen one of these since they were all the rage in ninth grade [Thanks Real World Las Vegas!].

“WHooaaa!” Kiala & I both let out a confused/aroused yell.

Tattoo-shirt and shirt-dress-girl left together. Stumbling the whole way.

Dear Tattoo-Shirt & Shirt-Dress Girl:

I don’t understand what possesses people like you to do these things in classy, hipster establishments like creperies. Can’t you go to The Dirty, or Dante’s, or somewhere filled with others like you? I was trying to enjoy a nice conversation and eat a crepe while discussing politics – and you had to go and arouse me ruin it with your tongue action.

We all regret decisions we’ve made while drinking. But I have met few people who have decided to go to third base in a restaurant. I am partially disgusted, and also impressed.

Not to mention, Shirt-Dress Girl, you should probably get your extensions fixed. Tattoo-Shirt was pulling on them, and they seemed askew on the way out.

Love always,
M

PS – Next time you all go out – give me a holler. I was a sorority girl, after all. It’s not too far off.