Overall, I am thrilled with how they came out, although next time -that’s right, next time- I may do something a little different with my hair.

There were seven shots that I had retouched from the batch of roughs, and of those seven, two that I am comfortable posting here. The first is just cute, and the second, while a bit revealing, is really more about Fawkes than it is about me.

I was listening to Flood this morning (in the past week, three people from different parts of my life have posted facebook statuses with TMBG lyrics from the first couple of albums) and when the Theme got to the line “it’s a brand new record for 1990,” it occurred to me that yes, 1990 was twenty years ago, and wowee, passage of time and all that.

I think I may have to get myself a pair of Chuck Taylors and do the Birdhouse in Your Soul dance a lot this year in celebration.

Accessories!

And, fortunately for me, when I was a teenager I was freaky, and freaky is ageless. Dressing like a freak is entirely more fun as an adult because a) I am old enough at this point to be considered eccentric, which is way cooler, and b) as with the shoe thing, I am not compensating anymore. I never would have admitted it when I was younger, but as naturally odd as I was, somewhere tucked into my combat boots was the knowledge that even if I tried, I couldn’t hit the teen beauty standard.

Anyway, all of this got me thinking about what sixteen year old me would think of now me – just the surface stuff of life. I started having the conversation in my head, and was thinking about writing out the whole thing here, but then decided that in the spirit of sixteen year old me, this is something that should involve notebook paper, list making and doodles. I also recognize completely that this is probably entertaining only to people who knew me and thought I was funny when I was sixteen, so that would be… me. And maybe my mom. But mostly me. Because I have always found myself hilarious. (Click on the image for the full-size jibbajab.)

Unrelated thought: I really need a skill that will be more useful on trade. Not many people need writing services, and most of my acquaintances locally are yoga teachers, so other than baking and making bad puns, I don’t have all that much I can offer. This is why it would be useful to be a massage therapist. That’s something that almost everyone wants. I need yoga portraits? Massages for you! Build me a deck? Many massages for you, with cookies, and maybe some apple pie. Perhaps a pear cobbler while you get a massage? I can do that.

Not that I am going to embark on another major, expensive training any time soon, but it’s a nice thought. Hey, now that I think of it, you know what doesn’t require ANY training or licensing? Prostitution. “Will ho for accordion lessons.” There’s a sign to wear proudly.

Yes. Yes, I do.

Anyway, the list, which I am sure will expand the more I think about it:

1. Behaviors of really short, intense, domineering little men. Under 5’4″, aggressive men dominated (!) my writing for six or seven years.
2. What people do when they smoke: the ritual of packing an entire container cigarettes against one’s hand or packing individual cigarettes, when people take drags during conversations, when people ash, etc. This one lasted about two years.
3. New: fidgeting with a wedding band.
4. Living in a half constructed / half renovated house.
5. How men talk about working on cars.
6. Looking into a glass of dark beer or liquor = staring down the barrel of a glass.
7. Small towns in Pennsylvania, especially the fire that has been burning under Centralia, PA since 1962..

It occurs to me that I could make a fortune with this picture if only I knew how to reach the elusive accordion / foot fetish demographic. Of course, just by writing “accordion foot fetish” (twice now) I am guaranteeing myself some fairly interesting google traffic.

Update: It turns out the shoes have 4.25 inch heels, making them 6.25% more interesting to wear while working on javascript!

I. Unwigged and Unplugged: Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer and Michael McKean at the Lyric

Cost
$11 for parking (We had free tickets.)

Crowd
Nerdy. A smattering of hipsters, but mostly nerds of all ages. I saw a guy un-ironically wearing a Transformers sweatshirt. It was nice to be among my people.

Highlights

• A dramatic reading of NBC’s proposed edits to Spinal Tap for late-night television in 1985.
• Everything that Harry Shearer said.
• Corn Wine, which is still stuck in my head.
• The original Spinal Tap cheese trailer.

Lowlights

• It was tough to hear some of the lyrics
• I looked kind of lame. It would have been a good excuse to put on one of the many fabulous vintage dresses sitting in my closet that I am itching to wear, but I was so exhausted that I couldn’t deal with changing before we left.
• The guy next to me was resplendent in cologne. By the time we left I felt like I was getting bronchitis.

Misc.

• I saw a couple of women with hair kind of the way mine used to be, and I was glad to no longer have a hairstyle that takes three hours to dry.
• Good sattire is art.
• Nerd crowds really are the best.

II. Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band at the Star Pavilion in Hershey Park

Cost
$232.80 + $11.00 for parking, gas to and from Hershey.

Crowd
White. More lesbians than I would have expected. (Not to say that before major events I sit around contemplating the potential lesbian density for the evening, but it was, nonetheless, surprising.)

Highlights

• Bruce’s energy during a show is inhuman. While the music is not my style, good lord, that man puts on a show like no one I have ever seen. It worth it just to see that kind of performance.
• One of the last songs featured not one, but TWO ACCORDIONS.
• Even twenty-five years after Born In The USA (which thankfully he did not play), no one inhabits the back half of a pair of jeans like the boss. That is some righteous tush.

Lowlights

• We were in section “H,” which apparently stands for, “Hey I can’t see anything.”
• Everytime the crowd started hooting “Bruuuuce,” all I could think of was, “They’re saying Booo-urns.” Early in my relationship with Scott, I wondered if the fact that he could not also carry on lengthy conversations comprised entirely of lines from the first ten seasons of The Simpsons would come between us. Usually it does not, but last night I had a big case of pop culture reference blue balls.
• Some one in front of us had wicked bad gas during the encore.
• It took an hour to get out of the parking lot. I wanted to go to sleep in the car, but Scott asked me to keep him awake, so I sang song from 70s TV shows.

Misc.

• I did not know this until last night, but Bruce’s music is an aphrodesiac for white people. There was more making out and ass-grabbing than I’ve seen at concert in a long, long time, maybe ever. The ass-grabbing was particularly widespread. Perhaps it was the influence of that righteous tush.
• Living with some one who always has samples of non-perishable foods in the back of his car is very handy during a late night traffic jam.
• Landshark beer tastes like beer. I really like it. It doesn’t have overtones of anything, or one characteristic that overpowers all the others. It just tastes like great big capital B Beer.

For the past few days, I have suddenly had a great longing to play all of my instruments. With other obligations looming, seeing my accordion across the room filled me with sadness – a statement I realize should probably be submitted in the next Bulwer-Lytton contest, but nonetheless it is genuine.

It occurred to me last night that I couldn’t remember the last time I wrote a song, which also made me sad. Likewise, I can’t remember the last time I was burning with inspiration to get something hilarious or interesting down in print.

Of course, I have been here before, but this time, I know something! I have an ace! After 34 years in this brain, I have finally figured out that the creative process requires other people. It is no coincidence that although my work is completely internal, it emerges when I am surrounded by other people who are creative and funny and talented. It stirs things up and brings out my best, and if I am lucky, I’ll find myself among people who are more creative and funnier and more talented than me (and maybe even smarter than me – a tall order). I guess this is obvious to the rest of the creative world. I admit I am a little slow when it comes to things that are outside of my own head. It only took me a couple of decades and countless writing workshops and a few times falling in and out of love with people just for what they did for my writing to figure it out.

Anyway, the commitment is there, the momentum is building. Two years in Baltimore – time to find my people.

1. I was afraid of toilets from age three to age twelve. Potty, wash hands, open the door, turn off the light, flush and RUN!
2. In the last issue of my high school newspaper, I said my goals were to be a writer and learn to play the accordion.
3. One of my front teeth is fake. The real one was lost to a sliding board mishap in 1984.
4. My dog, Jamie, is also a form of caller ID: she howls whenever a friend or family member calls, but ignores telemarketers.
5. I once served shrimp scampi to Jason Alexander.
6. I weigh twenty pounds less than I did in high school.
7. I have never seen Casablanca or Citizen Kane.
8. Instruments in my house: seven guitars, three accordions, piano, jaw harp, antique zither.
9. I have moved twenty-four times across seven states and D.C., only to settle three miles from where I was born.
10. I have never had a friendship end in a fight. People just drift in and out of my life.
11. I have the same birthday as Hitler.
12. In February of fifth grade, I was the student of the month. The category was “most creative.”
13. I skipped my college graduation to go on a cross-country train trip by myself.
14. I wore a tuxedo to my senior prom.
15. When I moved into my very first apartment in college, my dad’s friend sent a housewarming basket with a bottle of wine. I decided to save the wine for a special occasion, but never figured out what the occasion should be. Fourteen years later, it’s still sitting in my wine rack.
16. My dining room chairs were purchased for two dollars a piece from an exotic dance studio that was going out of business.
17. I do not own any leather shoes, except for a pair of purple Birkenstocks I bought in 1992 that I refuse to part with.
18. Alan Parsons bought me a corn muffin.
19. Ten years ago I got into one of the best fiction MFA programs in the country and decided not to go. I don’t have any regrets.
20. The last time I was in an amusement park was a family trip to Disneyworld in 1988.
21. I rarely carry a purse.
22. I have complete dexterity in the little toe on my right foot.
23. The first record album I ever bought for myself was Cyndi Lauper’s “She’s So Unusual.” First tape was Def Leppard’s “Hysteria,” and first CD was “Staring at the Sea” by The Cure.
24. I never, ever get bored.
25. I have made my own laundry soap for years.