tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72232272387354022242024-03-14T02:35:33.441-04:00[clever title]i have a question...Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.comBlogger748125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-21339104935374430922017-01-10T10:43:00.001-05:002017-01-10T14:33:43.945-05:00[clever title] is 10 Years Old, and I Almost ForgotI just gasped out loud, alone in my apartment, as my hot water for tea boiled and my egg cooked because I forgot today is my blogging anniversary.<br />
<br />
10 years ago, I took my friend Melody's suggestion to post the essays I'd been writing. The ones I couldn't keep in my head, the ones that haunted me to be released, as I processed graduating from college and moving back to New York City, after 8 years away in California.<br />
<br />
This blog has been a place of solace and hilarity, of logging memories and rants, of working through problems, and quoting friends and family.<br />
<br />
I've been sorely neglecting it lately, as I manage orienting myself around another big move, life changes, new job, new relationships.<br />
<br />
My resolution in 2017 is to WRITE MORE, and so I have been, a tiny bit every day.<br />
<br />
I'm delving into subject matter I've shied away from before, grappling with big questions about identity and family and bad habits and hope. It's not exactly blog-appropriate or ready for public consumption yet, but it's feeling OK.<br />
<br />
10 years ago, this blog made me feel like a writer and was how I proved it to myself.<br />
<br />
I still don't quite believe that I am one or that I could <i>really </i>be one, even though as I get older that feels more and more like what I really want.<br />
<br />
Maybe in honor of [clever title]'s 10th anniversary, I'll try just a little harder to believe.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-10296023547724574762016-12-31T01:33:00.001-05:002016-12-31T01:36:25.206-05:00Best of 2016<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2016: a strange and challenging year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MOVIES<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mad Max: Fury Road<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Room<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me and Earl and the
Dying Girl<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amanda Knox<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Justin Timberlake +
the Tennessee Kids<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hamilton’s America<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arrival<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moana<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Creed<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mr. Right<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lion<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moonlight<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">MUSIC<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>This is Acting </i>by
Sia</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Anti </i>by Rihanna</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Confident </i>by Demi
Lovato</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ru0K8uYEZWw" target="_blank">“Can’t Stop the Feeling”</a> by Justin Timberlake </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>V </i>by Maroon 5</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLyUcAUMmMY" target="_blank">“Hold My Hand”</a> by Jess Glynne </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ix8ocFEMa1o" target="_blank">“Ghost Town”</a> by Adam Lambert </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0lw3qylVfY" target="_blank">“Unsteady” </a>by X Ambassadors </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrUJyKsLQeU" target="_blank"> “Toothbrush”</a> by DNCE </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9LndszQ1co" target="_blank">“My Heart is Open”</a> by Maroon 5 ft. Gwen Stefani </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SMYzllRyqg" target="_blank"> “Brand New”</a> by Ben
Rector </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Joanne </i>by Lady
Gaga</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hamilton Mixtape<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Coloring Book </i>by
Chance the Rapper</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BOOKS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Everything Everything </i>by
Nicola Yoon</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Hamilton: The
Revolution </i>by Lin-Manuel Miranda and Jeremy McCarter</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Tell Me Three Things </i>by
Julie Buxbaum</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>You in Five Acts</i>
by Una LaMarche</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>In a Dark, Dark Wood</i>
by Ruth Ware</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>The Girl in Cabin 10</i>
by Ruth Ware</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">THEATER<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Father Comes Home from
the Wars (Parts 1, 2, &3) </i>at the Mark Taper Forum</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Hedwig and the Angry Inch </i>starring Darren Criss,<i> </i>at the Pantages</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here's to a new year full of hope and wonder.</span></span>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-1119857807565526202016-09-10T18:12:00.001-04:002016-09-10T18:12:31.592-04:00It's Been a WhileHi.<br />
<br />
I just counted, and it's been 5 1/2 months since my last post.<br />
<br />
I'm working on other writing: a set of vignettes that may end up being a book, a play I haven't touched in months, and bringing new life to some old writings <a href="https://medium.com/@anniekee" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
My blog turns 10 in January and it might take another four months for me to figure out how to commemorate that milestone.<br />
<br />
In the meantime, I hope you'll be patient as I look for inspiration in new places.<br />
<br />
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-29302455971272672932016-03-22T11:02:00.001-04:002016-03-22T11:02:25.788-04:00Work work work work workToday, it's been five weeks since I started the new job.<br />
<br />
I still feel very much in transition.<br />
<br />
It helps to be close to family, to be able to run home after a hard or long day, wash off the day, change into my PJ's, and go drink wine with the cousins or have a dance party with the boys or binge-watch Orphan Black. And The Fall. And The Walking Dead.<br />
<br />
It helps that I don't share a bathroom or kitchen or living room with anyone, so if I need a moment of quiet after my day, I get it in my apartment.<br />
<br />
It helps that my team already seems to appreciate me and has been vocal about it.<br />
<br />
I work both weekend days and my days off are Thursday and Friday. Twice a week, I have a ten-hour day.<br />
<br />
I'm doing my very best to stay fed and hydrated. To take my hour long breaks that are due to me every day.<br />
<br />
I'm doing my best not to get overwhelmed with the new information, new personality dynamics, new schedule, new culture. To imbue the department with my signature dose of positivity, support, and humor.<br />
<br />
I'm doing my best to remember that whatever I may be frustrated with now is most likely temporary, as we all continue to settle into a new rhythm and straighten out our staffing structure.<br />
<br />
I'm doing my best to get a good night's sleep each work night. At least 8 hours, if I can manage it.<br />
<br />
But I woke up early this morning and had a realization.<br />
<br />
I miss writing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-65038718658765571832016-02-11T11:11:00.002-05:002016-02-12T11:36:43.728-05:00Overheard at Work: the Fantasy EditionSo I got a job.<br />
<br />
After nearly 4 months of diligently looking and probably 50+ applications, the very first in-person interview I snagged is where I ended up getting hired.<br />
<br />
I'll be a manager at a well-known museum in Los Angeles.<br />
<br />
And my head is kind of spinning from the reality of the offer. I guess I really live in LA now.<br />
<br />
My friend also pointed out this means my blog reports may be very different than they used to be.<br />
<br />
For instance,<br />
<br />
Colleague A: Do you have the gift baskets ready?<br />
or<br />
Me: No, 19 year old intern, you cannot be late again.<br />
or<br />
Colleague B: Um, that's really pushing the boundary of work-appropriate attire.<br />
or<br />
Colleague C: Mindy Kaling, this is Annie, our new manager.<br />
or<br />
Colleague D: I need the Van Gogh, NOW.<br />
or<br />
Me: Goddamn it, where's the free citrus vodka?<br />
or<br />
Me: Sir, you're going to have to leave. You are too drunk.<br />
or<br />
Me: Beyonce is on her way.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-6684074624077646722016-01-10T15:21:00.000-05:002016-01-10T15:21:02.280-05:00[clever title] Turns 9For the New Year, I bought myself Start Where You Are: a Journal of Self-Exploration.<br />
<br />
It feels important, in this time of unemployment and hermitage, to be reflective about where I am. I like the idea of not judging my place in life, even though it’s hard for me. I like the idea of taking stock from this day forward, of challenging myself to consider my dreams and ambitions and thoughts of where I want my life to be now and where I want it to go next.<br />
<br />
***<br />
Today, my blog is 9.<br />
<br />
I don’t write in it as much as I would like.<br />
<br />
It’s changed forms a bunch of times since I started.<br />
<br />
These days, I have Twitter and Facebook and Instagram to put down my quick “thoughts of the day” or observations about pop culture.<br />
<br />
I’m not working right now, so I’m not collecting hilarious quotes from my team or the kids I worked with.<br />
<br />
I don’t even write personal essays that often anymore.<br />
<br />
But, I’ve been doing this blogging thing since I was a 23 year old college grad, living in Brooklyn.<br />
<br />
Now I’m an unemployed 32 year old, living in Los Angeles.<br />
<br />
That’s about as far away from where I started as I can get.<br />
<br />
So here I start again, from right where I am.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-41207166154130541272016-01-06T18:50:00.001-05:002016-01-06T18:51:13.693-05:00Things About Living Alone1. When the trash is full, it's full of my trash! So I don't even really mind emptying it.<br />
2. Same with the shower drain catcher.<br />
3. I am exceedingly organized. Everything has its place and everything goes back in its place after being used.<br />
4. My bed is for sleeping. When I was living in Boston, my bed was my office, my dining room, my den, and my bed. Now, I make it every morning and it stays beautifully made like a piece of art until I crawl into it at the end of the day.<br />
5. My dining room is my desk. Partly this is because I don't yet have a desk chair (they are EXPENSIVE) and partly it's because my computer is my TV.<br />
6. Having two nightstands and a queen sized bed makes me feel like an adult.<br />
7. Also a living room rug.<br />
8. And brand new towels.<br />
9. And an entry way table for my keys and grocery bags and laundry money.<br />
10. And a full fruit basket on my dining room table.<br />
11. I listen to music constantly, especially when in the bathroom.<br />
12. Sometimes I inadvertently make myself cry by listening to Disney songs in the shower. But that's OK because I LIVE ALONE.<br />
13. Every unexpected noise is an intruder. Even when it's just the bagels falling off my shelf.<br />
14. When I have a nightmare or am scared in the middle of the night, there are no people around to make me feel safer. (To be clear, this has happened exactly twice in over three months.)<br />
15. I spent legitimately over an hour deciding which soap dispenser to get for my bathroom. It was a serious design decision. (I went with yellow and gray chevrons.)<br />
16. For some reason, my laundry piles up way more since I've been living alone. I did four loads of laundry yesterday. I don't think I've ever done four loads of laundry in my entire life.<br />
17. Decorating for the holidays consisted of hanging icicle lights in my living room and placing a tiny table top tree on my coffee table. And that was perfect.<br />
18. I never thought I would but I have a toilet-seat-cover-down apartment.<br />
19. Also, no shoes in the house.<br />
20. One person makes far less trash, dirt, and dirty dishes than I ever expected.<br />
21. Sometimes a girl just needs an extra phone charger for the living room.<br />
22. I get most of my work done lying on the chaise portion of my couch.<br />
23. Drinking is fun, even when you live alone.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-28753280458972644082015-12-31T02:10:00.000-05:002015-12-31T15:04:15.852-05:00Best of 2015<b>MOVIES</b><br />
<i>Wild</i><br />
<i>The LEGO Movie</i><br />
<i>Begin Again</i><br />
<i>The Theory of Everything</i><br />
<i>Show 'Em What You're Made Of</i><br />
<i>Interstellar</i><br />
<i>Magic Mike XXL</i><br />
<i>Home</i><br />
<i>Straight Outta Compton</i><br />
<i>Sicario</i><br />
<i>How to Dance in Ohio</i><br />
<i>The Martian</i><br />
<i>August: Osage County</i><br />
<i>The Good Dinosaur</i><br />
<i>Beginners</i><br />
<i>Star Wars: The Force Awakens</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<b>BOOKS</b><br />
<i>The Longest Date: Life as a Wife </i>by Cindy Chupack<br />
<i>All the Bright Places </i>by Jennifer Niven<br />
<i>The Girl on the Train </i>by Paula Hawkins<br />
<i>Paper Towns </i>by John Green<br />
<i>The Friend Who Got Away </i>edited by Jenny Offill and Elissa Schappel<br />
<i>Fat Girl Walking </i>by Brittany Gibbons<br />
<i>Sweet and Vicious </i>by Richard Schickler<br />
<i>Sharp Objects </i>by Gillian Flynn<br />
<i>Still Alice </i>by Lisa Genova<br />
<i>With This Heart </i>by R.S. Grey<br />
<i>Sick in the Head </i>by Judd Apatow<br />
<i>Don't Fail Me Now </i>by Una LaMarche<br />
<i>Sounds Like Me </i>by Sara Bareilles<br />
<i>Dirty </i>by Megan Hart<br />
<br />
<b>MUSIC</b><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NwzxGntDgs" target="_blank">"Can't Stop Dancing" by Becky G</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kt0g4dWxEBo" target="_blank">"Four Five Seconds" by Rihanna</a><br />
<i>Piece by Piece </i>by Kelly Clarkson<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JCLY0Rlx6Q" target="_blank">"Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DKL4X0PZz7M" target="_blank">"My Silver Lining" by First Aid Kit</a><br />
<i>In a World Like This </i>by Backstreet Boys<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6lDUXBIrgk" target="_blank">"The Crying Game" by Nicki Minaj ft. Jessie Ware</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2yOYonrSEc" target="_blank">"Keep on Lying" by Jessie Ware</a><br />
<i>Never Gone </i>by Backstreet Boys<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DK_0jXPuIr0" target="_blank">"What Do You Mean?" by Justin Bieber</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRh_vgS2dFE" target="_blank">"Sorry" by Justin Bieber</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KJWJfRAGnHc" target="_blank">"Acapella" by Karmin</a><br />
<i>Hamilton </i>Original Broadway Cast Recording<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ndpryp2OlUQ" target="_blank">"Till It's Gone" by Yelawolf</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbfpW0pbvaU" target="_blank">"Stitches" by Shawn Mendes</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uLI6BnVh6w" target="_blank">"Ex's and Oh's" by Elle King</a><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQHsXMglC9A" target="_blank">"Hello" by Adele</a><br />
<i>What's Inside </i>by Sara Bareilles<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyEuk8j8imI" target="_blank">"Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber</a><br />
<br />
<b>THEATER</b><br />
<i>Dying While Black and Brown </i>by Zaccho Dance Theatre<br />
<i>Hamilton </i>on Broadway<br />
<i>Waitress </i>at American Repertory Theater<br />
<br />
Here's to a happy and healthy 2016!<br />
<br />
Thank you, as always, for reading!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-2553523523263206572015-12-10T17:30:00.002-05:002015-12-10T17:33:23.733-05:00March 29, 2007: "Consolation"I ask how you are. Remembering that I loved you once. And maybe will again. (Or perhaps it’s that I still do. I can’t tell.)<br />
<br />
You pause because there’s bad news.
I’m never speechless, but this silences me. A silence as cold and hard and unexpected as a drop of freezing rain down my back. The one that sneaks past the layers of clothes I wear to protect myself.<br />
<br />
I think a heartfelt “I’m so sorry” is appropriate here but it comes out like the empty cliché it is. This is a situation in which “I can’t imagine what you’re going through” feels ridiculous, heavy, useless. I don’t think they make sympathy cards for “there’s been an accident and we don’t know if he’ll live.”<br />
<br />
I want to fix it. But we haven’t seen each other in months. And it’s never the same, even though somehow and miraculously it is.<br />
<br />
I don’t hear from you for days; it feels like forever. I assume, then, that no news must be bad news. And it is.
<br />
<br />
It isn’t my loss but, because it is yours, it feels like mine. I can’t breathe when you tell me and I don’t expect that. Then, I don’t know what to do. Who to tell, how to say it. What to say to you. I feel far away and wish I could teleport, which I then remember is the super power you said you wish you had. I wanted Inspector Gadget’s mechanical legs. I guess both powers would allow us to get places faster. Maybe the place would be called closer to each other.<br />
<br />
I do actually search for a “sympathy” card. (It’s a good thing they don’t make empathy cards because I don’t actually know what you’re experiencing.) I look for 10 minutes for a card that doesn’t make me think of widows in black polyester dresses, blue hair, and casseroles.<br />
<br />
The most appropriate one I find is under the category “Thinking of You” because I am.<br />
<br />
But that’s nothing new.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-14016725983037216262015-10-13T15:08:00.001-04:002015-10-13T15:24:13.813-04:00A Change of PlaceI have this theory, since I’ve moved so many times in my life, that the last few weeks in a place you’ve lived and struggled in are like the last few days of camp. When you’re just grateful and excited to spend time with the people you’ve been living with and everything goes perfectly and all you have is fun. It makes it particularly hard to transition out of a life that is suddenly carefree and full of love, even though you’ve decided to make a change because things have been HARD and sometimes even UNTENABLE.<br />
<br />
But when work stress let up and suddenly everyone wanted to spend time with me and I said yes to everything and I didn’t have a care in the world besides figuring out how to get all my shit across the country and living out of a suitcase for two weeks, it was really hard to fathom leaving. And just when I was really not sure I actually did want to move, I got my feelings hurt by a boy and was sure again. It was a familiar feeling. A sign, perhaps, that Boston isn’t where my life was meant to be.<br />
<br />
I can’t figure out if it’s better to exit a place like taking off a Band-Aid—swift and with a flourish and a short burst of pain—or if it’s better to elongate the torture into a long string of goodbyes. When I moved away from NYC in 2008, I packed in a manner of two days with a friend, S threw me a going away party and I left on a weekend, in a mad dash and with minimal drama but lots of emotional turmoil and questions. NYC had never felt like home even though it’s my hometown and I was moving basically to save my life, after a bout of depression that surprised and scared me and truly coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing for me there.<br />
<br />
In contrast, leaving Boston meant saying a week of goodbyes to an entire group of people I had fought to gain and chosen to allow into my adult life. A roommate I had lived with for six of the seven years I was there, a bevy of coworkers I had toiled, bled, sweated, and cried with for five years, young people I had seen almost every day for five years—kids I had met at 7 and worked with until they were 12; teens that I had worked with in 2011 who graduated from college this past spring. Seven years is a long time to live in a place that doesn’t feel like home.
I kept reminding myself that I’ve done this before and that part of the hard part of being an adult is that, if you’ve had a life that has taken you a lot of places and you’ve connected well with people in each place, your friends are scattered far and wide.<br />
<br />
But one of the most difficult parts of extricating myself from a place is what my friend and I call “having the funeral before the death.” I found myself missing my friends while they were still around, another familiar feeling. Fearing the separation, the unknown of where our friendships would go next. Los Angeles is about as far away from Boston as possible, while staying in the continental United States. Those connections began to feel more and more precious. And saying goodbye sucks. What comes next, friends?<br />
<br />
I spent a swift 6 hours packing up my life with my mom, confronting and then disconnecting from the seven years I had settled into that room. The evening I finally emptied out all of the furniture from my room, in anticipation of a new tenant moving in, was one of the most disorienting in the whole process. The final straw, putting my mattress, frame, and box spring on the curb, felt horrible, and I was overwhelmed with sadness and fear. What was I doing? The nagging voice that had been relatively quiet through the entire decision and packing process of my move was suddenly screaming at me. Why are you leaving a solid job and a deep and thriving community of friends? Why are you subjecting yourself to this torture? This anxious, homeless, displaced feeling? You did this to yourself. And through the caterwauling in my head, I heard another, calmer, more resolute voice: remember, you may feel anxious about being homeless now but this is just a step on the road to making a home for yourself.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
When you decide to leave a place, every detail about it is suddenly heightened. The flat rs of the train conductor's Boston accent resonate just a little differently. You suddenly listen to the sound of wind outside your apartment and think, “Maybe I’ll miss that.”<br />
<br />
You notice the color of the sunset and commit it to memory every night.
You start counting down: how many more times will I tap my T pass to get on the train? This is the last birthday I will celebrate here. This is the last special event I’ll work and the last time I’ll plan a program season at work. The last time I’ll write a rent check to this landlord.<br />
<br />
You notice your name on your mailbox each time you return home and think, “Somebody else’s name will be there soon.”<br />
<br />
An unexpected rain shower followed by a rainbow is suddenly significant. You’re looking everywhere for signs that THIS IS THE RIGHT MOVE.<br />
<br />
I’ve moved a lot in my life. Brooklyn to Cambria, CA in 1997, Cambria to Berkeley in 2001, Berkeley to New York City in 2005, New York City to San Luis Obispo, CA in 2008, San Luis Obispo to Boston in 2008.<br />
<br />
But this move feels different.
<br />
<br />
This move is both the most impulsive one I’ve made and the most adult.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, I moved to Los Angeles because it was cheaper than trying to find a place to live alone in Boston. I felt unanchored there, frustrated in my work, unhappy living with roommates, ready for whatever the next chapter in my life will be about. And I am lucky and grateful to be able to now be where I have family and friends and also a great place to live. So I spent my last few weeks in Boston fantasizing about the hook I would hang my robe on. The hand soap I would buy just for me to use. My very own toothbrush holder. Hanging my mirror by my front door. Buying a brand new bed and all new bedding!<br />
<br />
I was texting with a friend about my plans and I told her, mostly in jest, that it felt like this was a move that could make all of the fantasies about my life come true. She told me that made her cry, and I asked her why. She said I had never said anything like that about Boston. And I told her, well yeah, Boston was about WORK.<br />
<br />
This move is about LIFE.
Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-13435771658971735892015-09-28T00:26:00.001-04:002015-09-28T00:26:11.255-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXXIV (the Final Volume)On Thursday, September 24, I left my work after almost five years. This is the final installment of quotes from that amazing place--a place where a part of me will always live. I can't wait to see what my colleagues and all those wonderful kids do next.<br />
<br />
Colleague A: Yo, you ever just loved salad?<br />
<br />
8 year old boy, to me: I'm gonna try to play guitar now so I can ignore you.<br />
<br />
Same 8 year old boy, as I raised my arm to point at him: Ew! Pits!<br />
<br />
Me: Is 2003 the year you were born? I'm so old!<br />
12 year old boy: You are old. You're from like 1874.<br />
<br />
2nd grade boy, at his first visit: Nice place ya got here!<br />
<br />
15 year old boy, talking about my departure: I don't cry but...I get achey.<br />
<br />
12 year old boy: When you leave, can I have your wallet?<br />
<br />
14 year old girl, to me: Did you guys party? I have the heart of a 21 year old.<br />
<br />
12 year old boy: Why are you leaving? You've been here for like 700 years. How much money do you have?<br />
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-91598772054730682212015-09-14T08:06:00.002-04:002015-09-14T08:06:54.142-04:00To My Cousin's Daughter, on her Fifth Birthday<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear E.W.E.,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, you’re 5! A hilarious, brilliant, willful five year
old. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You just started kindergarten. In the first week, you
learned about different jobs and shared things about yourself. You seemed
particularly excited about learning about meteorologists and telling us about
your cubby where you put your backpack. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You will likely always be the youngest in your class. I
think this is the perfect situation for you because that means you will always
be challenged by your classmates who are bigger. You’ll be so prideful, you
will consistently work hard to stay in pace with the kids around you. But, lord
knows, you’ll give them all a run for their money too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re old enough now that we’ve spent some time alone
together. The last time I babysat, you were so excited that we would stay up
all night together! You also insisted that if you, ultimately, changed your
mind and went out with your Mama, that I could stay home and do the dishes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We shared popcorn and watched <i>The Boxtrolls </i>and you explained every detail, so I wouldn’t be
confused. When that movie was over, you asked if I’d ever seen <i>Ghostbusters</i>. So we turned that on and
you swiftly fell asleep on my legs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(We’ll save staying up all night for another time, I guess.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wish you all the best this year, that you face new
challenges head on, with your sharp mind and your wicked sense of humor, that
you make lots of memories with your friends and big family, that you know that
I am just one of the people who loves you so much and is here for you always.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy birthday!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pretzel</div>
Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-77409366637353988552015-08-28T20:24:00.000-04:002015-08-28T20:24:30.690-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXXIIISummer 2015 programming ended today, in a flourish of team games, whipped cream, and friendship bracelets. It was the fastest and most grueling summer in my history there, and I am both shocked and relieved that it's over.<br />
<br />
Me, to 7 year old boy: What was the best part of your day?<br />
Boy: Going to the bathroom.<br />
Me: Did you poop?<br />
Boy: No, the best part of my day was...licking a toilet.<br />
<br />
12 year old girl, answering "Who would play you in the movie of your life"?: Amy Schumer, Kevin Hart, or Ice Cube.<br />
<br />
13 year old girl, to me: Did you hear that I was looking for you? It was all over the news!<br />
<br />
7 year old girl: Everyone's hair looks nice. But some people's hair smells bad but I don't say anything about it.<br />
<br />
Me, calling out trivia questions: What is a female adult horse called?<br />
15 year old boy: Horsette.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-83961117000857190622015-08-07T18:18:00.000-04:002015-08-07T18:18:22.590-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXXIII cannot discern one day from the next, and mostly, I'm just glad that it's Friday and that means I can drink ALL THE WINE.<br />
<br />
Colleague A: *makes disgusted face* That's how you say "No" in sign language.<br />
<br />
Colleague B: I'm eating this pizza, thinking about my life choices and wondering why I didn't wake up early to make stuffed chicken!<br />
<br />
9 year old girl: Were you in <i>Annie</i>?<br />
Me: Yes, when I was in 6th grade!<br />
7 year old girl: Were you in the white one?<br />
<br />
8 year old girl: She has gray hair!<br />
7 year old girl: Oh my God, you have gray hair! What are you doing to yourself?!<br />
<br />
12 year old boy: Annie!...Annie!...I forgot...I'll tell you later...OH! Annie! Can I have my phone?<br />
<br />
14 year old boy, opening my snacks: I had to use my chest muscles to open this.<br />
<br />
8 year old girl, describing the clue, "Dinosaurs": They were extinct. Like 300 years ago!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-26620215316229592892015-07-24T20:42:00.000-04:002015-07-24T20:42:09.255-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXXIWhat can I tell you?<br />
<br />
Days are long. Kids are hilarious.<br />
<br />
Colleague A, regarding his crowded program space: I feel like I'm in the womb. With 125 siblings.<br />
<br />
Colleague B, to me: All of my friends have seen your Dubsmashes. I have three friends.<br />
<br />
Me, to a room of young teens: I'm running to the restroom. Don't kill each other.<br />
13 year old girl: No promises.<br />
<br />
13 year old girl, in an exercise where she was creating a life timeline: I'm gonna get divorced at 56.<br />
<br />
Colleague C: I love cotton candy. It's like eating a cloud.<br />
<br />
Me, to a 7 year old girl missing her two front teeth: You lost some teeth?<br />
Girl: They're coming in September.<br />
Me: You ordered them online?<br />
<br />
9 year old boy: I can sniff better than any dog.<br />
<br />
Colleague B: I'm bringing [Colleague D] a bagel...she's Jewish.<br />
<br />
Me, to an 11 year old boy jumping around the room: You'll crack your face open!<br />
Boy: I need a new face!<br />
<br />
7 year old girl, reading "Rule #1": Rule hashtag 1.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-85090184975183139892015-07-02T18:19:00.000-04:002015-07-02T18:19:28.784-04:00Overheard at Work (and in Vermont), vol. CXXOh heavens, so it's July.<br />
<br />
June zoomed by in a flurry of special events, final presentations, a birthday celebration, and a graduate school reunion weekend that basically consisted of my three very good friends and me drinking for about 50 hours straight. Also some high belting and lots of laughing.<br />
<br />
I have just survived my first week of my fifth summer at work, and I've compiled quotes from the last month or so, so we here we go!<br />
<br />
Colleague A: It is warm enough. I can use my boomerang.<br />
<br />
14 year old, creating the tagline for my impending birthday: 32 sexy for you!<br />
<br />
Me, to an 8 year old boy soaked from the sprinklers: Do you have water in your ear?<br />
Boy: I have water everywhere, I think.<br />
<br />
Me, to my 23 year old colleague, who swiftly identified "Crossroads" by Bone Thugs n Harmony: Why do you know this song?<br />
Colleague B: Because my dad's a thug.<br />
<br />
Me, reflecting on my job: I feel like after this, I could run the fucking Pentagon.<br />
<br />
7 year old boy: In three years, on November 1, I'm gonna be 8!<br />
<br />
7 year old girl: I don't follow the rules. I don't play games. I just watch Netflix.<br />
<br />
12 year old girl: How do you spell Impressionism?<br />
<br />
And here are the collected quotes from my weekend of drunkenness, spent with wonderful old friends in Vermont, in celebration of our graduation from graduate school five years ago. They will likely not amuse any but ourselves.<br />
<br />
SN: Hashtag, I was never a west.<br />
<br />
PM, shrieking at a bug: Nature got a little too close!<br />
<br />
SN, as we discussed dipping into the pond: Guys! I'm gonna get an infection!<br />
<br />
Me: What's in the middle of the country?<br />
SN: Laura Kraybill.<br />
<br />
MW: Vagina: the city that never sleeps!<br />
<br />
PM: All these cabinets smell like cheese.<br />
<br />
SN: No offense, you're my best friend!<br />
<br />
Emerson College, class of 2010 FOREVER!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-65914277943446370432015-06-06T10:40:00.001-04:002015-06-06T10:40:44.321-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXIXIt's been another weird month. Not overwhelmingly busy but broken up by a week in Los Angeles with family and overridden with special events and prep for summer which is only two work weeks away!<br />
<br />
8 year old boy: I'm done with homework!<br />
Me: Where are you going now?<br />
Boy: Australia.<br />
<br />
10 year old boy: We have a lot of energy!<br />
9 year old boy: STEROIDS!<br />
<br />
10 year old girl: You went to California? Did you meet cowboy people?<br />
<br />
18 year old girl, to her fellow (male) basketball players: Your feet don't have to stink to play ball!<br />
<br />
Me, to a 9 year old girl: When are you going to be President?<br />
Girl: When I'm 32.<br />
<br />
Me, to colleague: I was definitely about to punch you in the mouth.<br />
Colleague: You would have definitely broken your hand forever.<br />
<br />
Teen boy: Guess whose birthday is on Sunday.<br />
Me: Yours.<br />
Boy: The artist, formerly known as Prince.<br />
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-49402959897758043222015-05-08T22:46:00.000-04:002015-05-08T22:46:16.811-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXVIIII lost a month of blogging to heavy special event prep--our annual fundraiser was last Saturday! And, though we did raise a record $115,000 that night, it was an insane amount of work and led to a gap in blogging, not to mention sleeping, eating regularly, and relaxing, in general.<br />
<br />
Me, to a 14 year old girl: Your friends are in that room.<br />
Girl: I have friends?<br />
<br />
Alumna, to me: Your lips look like you took the Kylie Jenner lip challenge.<br />
<br />
8 year old girl: I want to be the President! Or a doctor.<br />
<br />
14 year old boy, to me: Waddup sexy slim?<br />
<br />
Me, to a teen boy: Why are you fancy?<br />
Boy: Because it's Tuesday.<br />
Me: It's Wednesday.<br />
<br />
Colleague, to me: You look good. Are you ovulating?Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-83545359327063110882015-04-03T20:37:00.000-04:002015-04-03T20:37:28.205-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXVIIMade it through a very long March and the weather is even turning. I walked outside today with NO JACKET!<br />
<br />
Me, to newest colleague: Do you not know all the staff?!<br />
Colleague A: I still can't find the bathroom!<br />
<br />
Colleague B, regarding cats: They are cold-blooded killing machines.<br />
Colleague C: And they're fluffy.<br />
<br />
Me, to teenage boy on the phone: Was that your mother?<br />
Teenage boy: It was YOUR mother.<br />
<br />
Colleague D: I feel so weird today. Weird head space, negative energy...<br />
Me: Your aura is gray?<br />
Colleague D: My aura is gray...Cloudy with a chance of meatballs.<br />
<br />
Group of boys: ...sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes baby...<br />
<br />
Wait, that's not right.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-28133489606641735532015-03-28T22:10:00.001-04:002015-03-28T22:10:38.561-04:00From the Archives: Personal HistoryI wrote this for my Theatre and Community class my first semester in grad school: September of 2008. I just reread it for the first time in probably 7 years and was struck by so many things. I work with kids like this every day now.<br />
<br />
I wonder where Tyshawn is today. He'll be 17 in July.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
I graduated from UC Berkeley in
June of 2005 and moved to <st1:city w:st="on">New York
City</st1:city> that same month with the dream to start a theater
company. By the end of that summer, not only had I not started a theater
company but I didn’t even have a job. I spent four painful, ego-shattering
months pounding the pavement and being confounded by the fact that a Bachelor’s
degree from one of the best universities in the country didn’t guarantee me
gainful employment. Needless to say, <st1:city w:st="on">New
York City</st1:city> was not the city of bright lights and
theater dreams come true that I expected it to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
After
nailing down a job at a non-profit sexual health organization and falling into
two production management gigs, I suffered from serious theater burn-out and subsequently
took a year off, wondering if I really wanted to pursue a career in the arts. By the spring of 2007, I had been at my dead-end
day job for a bit more than a year, making little money, and dealing with a
creative and moral depression that crippled me. On a suggestion, I decided to
pursue volunteering and discovered a music project for children, ages 6-14, at
a shelter on the <st1:place w:st="on">Lower East Side</st1:place>. I had never
worked with or overseen children and was panicked that I’d feel steamrolled by
them. However, I figured that
volunteering twice a month wasn’t a very big time commitment, and I found
encouragement in the subject matter, music being another serious passion of
mine. It seemed a potentially ideal project, fulfilling a creative hunger I
hadn’t been able to satisfy since graduating.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
My
first day as a volunteer, I met a nine-year-old boy named Tyshawn. I sat down
next to him and asked him his name, feeling slightly self-conscious and not really <span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">knowing what to expect. He was
enthusiastic and hilarious and we spent the day working together. We went
around the circle and told everyone our names and what our favorite kind of
music was, pairing it with a gesture and sound that indicated that music style.
When the project leader asked if anyone could recite each person’s name and repeat
each person’s gesture, Tyshawn didn’t volunteer. However, when we took a break,
he did it perfectly on his own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
The leader of the
project had been a musical theater student and injected each class with
opportunities for the children to be the centers of attention, to tap into
their creativity in a very accessible and non-threatening way. This became an
essential part of the project every week we gathered, and I continued to
enforce it when I became a co-leader of the project in June. We set a high
standard for participation in the class, asking our volunteers to work closely
with the children to create songs, dances, or poems that they rehearsed and
presented to the rest of the group. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
Tyshawn
and I spent three weeks working as a duo. I learned that he liked writing. That
he had a baby sister and an older brother. That he was turning 10 in July. I
learned that I had a natural gift with kids. That they gravitated toward me,
seemed to respect me, responded to me in a way that felt really special. I had
fun with them; I learned from them; I was moved by them. It was an epiphany.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
Summer holidays
interrupted our bi-monthly meetings and I hadn’t seen Tyshawn for a couple
weeks when I arrived at the shelter one week and discovered that the project
had been cancelled that day. As I turned up the street to head back to the
subway, Tyshawn was crossing. He saw me and bolted across, throwing his arms
around me and <span style="line-height: 200%; text-align: right;">yelling my name. I nearly burst
into tears, realizing that I really had connected with him over the previous
weeks. He dragged me back across the street and insisted I meet his mother, who
wasn’t much older than I was and who was preoccupied with a baby in a stroller
and having just lost her contact lens. She also didn’t seem to have any idea
who I was, but Tyshawn introduced me as his “favorite teacher” anyway. The
shelter was a transitional living situation for female victims of domestic
abuse. Soon after this meeting on the street, Tyshawn stopped coming to class,
and I can only hope that means he and his family found a more permanent living
situation somewhere else.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
I co-led this project for almost six months
before moving back to <st1:state w:st="on">California</st1:state>
where I prepared to enter grad school. Over the months, we introduced the kids
to blues and rock n’roll; we sang Christmas carols with them; we tried to teach
them about rhythm and rhyme. Every week, we led an introduction game, made a
craft, broke up into groups and had them create pieces to perform at the end of
the night. Every week, it was evident how important these gatherings were. I
didn’t know anything about what these children’s lives were like outside our
meetings, but I could tell their recreation time was important and special for
them. They were being creative in ways I knew were different from what they
were used to. They were working together in ways I knew were different from
what they were used to, and they were being led by caring and patient adults in
ways that I knew were different from what they were used to. Even more powerfully,
they were working with young men who paid close attention to them, listened to
them, and were gentle with them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<o:p> </o:p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; text-align: right; text-indent: 0.5in;">Working with these children was educational to me in
ways that I’m not sure I’ll be able to fully articulate until I have some more
experience under my belt. They being the first children I ever worked with
combined with the vulnerability and potency of their situations made the work
such a heady and emotional experience. It planted the seed for my ultimate goal
as a theatre teacher and artist: to establish an organization that will allow
populations of children a creative outlet that they don’t have in any other
capacity. Theatre, with its tenets of collaboration and expression, seems an
essential medium for urban children, arguably our most vulnerable community. I
want to foster the enthusiasm I saw in Tyshawn with kids just like him, and I
hope he is somewhere continuing to express himself as he was able to do with us.</span></div>
Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-18513066599361532015-03-20T20:41:00.002-04:002015-03-20T20:41:43.545-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXVIHappy Spring! (It's snowing.)<br />
<br />
Super tough week over. Another big one next week.<br />
<br />
It was one of those weeks when I wasn't sure what day it was, I was just kind of putt-putting along...On Tuesday, I couldn't believe it wasn't at LEAST Wednesday.<br />
<br />
8-year-old boy: I'm not Mexican. But I do love tacos!<br />
<br />
Colleague A, during a Jeopardy round for the kids: Who invented Facebook?<br />
6-year-old boy: The Internet!<br />
<br />
13-year-old girl, inspecting my mac and cheese with tuna: Is that tuna? My mom makes it the exact same way. That's that Haitian in you!<br />
<br />
14-year-old boy: I remember Tom Sawyer from Everybody Loves Raymond!<br />
<br />
(Our nation's future, ladies and gentlemen.)<br />
<br />
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-69122595932861794062015-03-13T21:51:00.000-04:002015-03-13T22:16:19.924-04:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXVTrudging along.<br />
<br />
Spring is near.<br />
<br />
16-year-old boy, upon viewing my Tempting Trail Mix from Trader Joe's, which has pictures of cherubs on the bag: You're eating demon nuts!!<br />
<br />
Me: Where have you been?<br />
7-year-old boy: Oh! I can't because I got beat upped.<br />
<br />
Me: What if I just took a bite out of your head?<br />
9-year-old boy: It would taste bad.<br />
Me: What do you think it would taste like?<br />
Boy: Doo doo.<br />
<br />
Colleague A: I want a cookie.<br />
Me: Do I want my pizza or my sandwich for lunch?<br />
Colleague A: Um. You want a cookie.<br />
<br />
15-year-old boy, upon seeing that I follow Ludacris on Instagram: That's crazy. You follow Ludacris and you don't follow me?<br />
Me: Ludacris is a grown man who has been around for like 20 years.<br />
Boy: I've been rapping since 6 months! I came out saying, Yo yo!<br />
<br />
13-year-old girl, giggling at something I didn't catch: I'm not laughing! It's the hormones!Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-83186469531239511802015-02-28T10:44:00.002-05:002015-02-28T10:44:40.053-05:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXIVFebruary vacation week and this past week both went smoothly, with no weather interruptions beyond a late start one day because of the cold.<br />
<br />
I'm just counting down to Daylight Savings Time, now that I realized it's NEXT WEEKEND!<br />
<br />
15-year-old boy: Your Blue Diamond Almonds are BOLD. They have no fear. They're just...out in the world.<br />
<br />
Colleague A: My earlobes are stretched because I used to be a hood rat. Well. I'm still a hood rat.<br />
<br />
10-year-old boy, commenting on a colleague's drawing: A warehouse? What kind of warehouse?<br />
Me: ...your mom.<br />
<br />
13-year-old girl, looking at the games on my phone: You like...Activia Crack?!<br />
<br />
13-year-old girl: Why does she want you to wear a dress?<br />
Me: Because she thinks I should be girlier.<br />
Girl: That's better though! It's good to keep expectations low.<br />
<br />
15-year-old girl: He said he's an OG. An old gangsta.<br />
<br />
Me, to a 7-year-old girl: Your mind is fascinating. I wanna spend some time in there.<br />
7-year-old girl: You are in my mind. In a gown. At a ball.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-64555227860424005352015-02-15T17:24:00.001-05:002015-02-15T17:24:55.889-05:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXIIIPlenty has been written and posted and shared about what an insane winter Boston is having this year.<br />
<br />
The club has closed three weeks in a row on Monday and sometimes on Tuesday. The MBTA has closed for at least one day every week for the last month. Currently, my blinds are open, my space heater is blasting, and the wind outside is so crazy, I fear for my windows.<br />
<br />
The latest report is that we have had over 95 inches of snow this season.<br />
<br />
It's the SNOWPOCALYPSE.<br />
<br />
For reals.<br />
<br />
13 year old girl, as I began to join her in song: This ain't no High School Musical, why are you joining in?<br />
<br />
Me, to 13 year old girl: Why are you so mean to me?<br />
Girl: Cuz I love you so much!<br />
<br />
Colleague A: Seth is gonna be a staff here.<br />
Me: Except he hates kids.<br />
Colleague A: ...Perfect.<br />
<br />
Colleague B, referring to our staff: We're dirty motherf*ckers.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7223227238735402224.post-57942414787005459422015-01-25T10:04:00.000-05:002015-01-25T10:04:04.520-05:00Overheard at Work, vol. CXIIIt's been almost a month back in the grind since the holidays, which is kind of insane.<br />
<br />
BASICALLY, it is ALREADY 2016!<br />
<br />
8-year-old boy, explaining a confrontation with another boy: He kicked me in my B-E-L-L-C-S.<br />
(Not sure how he got there from B-A-L-L-S.)<br />
<br />
Me: What are you doing?<br />
Teenage boy: Anything with a heartbeat. JK.<br />
<br />
I ran a teen acting program hour and we did an exercise where we interviewed each other, in pairs, and then condensed the information we gathered down to a haiku. Here is mine:<br />
<br />
He sleeps, once dreaming<br />
Of fighting fires. One day,<br />
He'll study oceans.<br />
<br />
13 year old girl, riffing on my habit of naming my 30s birthdays: 31-derful, 32-sday, 33-some...<br />
<br />
Me, getting up, in a fit of activity: On to the next thing, on to the next thing, on to the next thing, on to the next thing, on to the next thing...<br />
Coworker A: ...Annie broke.Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17928835492632882751noreply@blogger.com0