Wedding Photos

Best wishes to 'moskateer Samantha and her husband, a.k.a. 'Dear Michael' in these parts.

Jane Eyre

Don't hate me, Jane, but I think my pleasure in having finally finished reading you outweighs the pleasure of actually reading you. (One definition of a classic?)

This book had me at the beginning. Ever since *SPOILER* Jane had that book thrown at her head, I was on her side. Thumbs up for the moorland. Yay for supernatural-ish occurrences and brooding men! Jane is good at arguing with boys. Those are some of the best parts. After I lost my copy I started to lose steam. I would definitely like to read Wide Sargasso Sea soon while this story is still in my head.

Here is an unimportant line that I thought was great. Jane is about to leave to visit Gateshead and tells him she will advertise to find a new position. Rochester doesn't say, "Like hell you will!" (as my mom might say); he doesn't say, "In Macy's window!" (as Mike's mom might say); he doesn't say, "Advertise your FACE!" (as JP might say). Instead he goes with, "You shall walk up the pyramids of Egypt!"



Kicking ass and taking names. Haters gonna hate.


What I Wore

I caught a snippet of CBS Sunday Morning, interviewing the Ephron sisters about their adaptation of Ilene Beckerman’s memoir Love, Loss, and What I Wore into a play. I think it was Delia who said that women remember what they wore, and men remember the car they drove, or the music that was playing. It’s true that there are very few outfits that I remember wearing and would probably forget many more without photographic evidence. There are some exceptions.

The night I was kicked out of a bar my freshman year of college I wore an orange shirt and black pants from Urban Outfitters, because that was the day I declared, “Orange is a dangerous color.” (Sidenote: how has that quote not made the blog before?) However, that outfit borders on costume because it was for Bacchanal, and costumes fall into a separate category entirely. (The three guidelines for Bacchanal, an annual end-of-the-year performing arts party, were 1. Dress to Impress/2. Wear comfortable shoes/3. Cover your ass.)

Thanksgiving in the year 2000, my sophomore year of college, I wore the coat with the fake fur collar that I bought at a thrift shop. I have always loved jackets/outer layers. Vy called that my “pimp coat.”

When Hannah interviewed me for her coming out photo project, I wore my red t-shirt that said “Fiji” on it.

I wore khaki suede shoes purchased at Zara in Lyon and Gap jeans to the main Penn commencement on Franklin Field. That was probably the fourth graduation ceremony I attended, and we were going to have the gowns on anyway. I waited to see whether my father would comment.

The year I went to the Christmas Dance with Cristine (junior year) I wore a silver tie because she told me she was wearing silver and I wanted to match. I still have that tie (it has even made it to Denver) but have not worn it since.

The year I went to the Christmas Dance with Andrea (sophomore year) I wore a dark green suit which I dug at the time, but in retrospect it probably made me look like the driver of a Peter Pan bus.

When the g5-minus-Katie went to New Orleans, my “Swamp Tour Outfit” consisted of white khaki man capris (2005, people! I tried to validate that this was something men wore, and Google gave me this.) and a light blue t-shirt with brown ring collar and sleeves. This ensemble would be entirely forgettable if not for the fact that when we unpacked our luggage Courtney and I spent time deliberating what we would wear on the swamp tour.

Of course, over the years, I have a good idea of what my favorite clothes were, even if I can’t recall the specific occasions when I wore them:

Middle school was a magical time filled with nylon track suits. You may be able to find a picture of my family all in track suits in front of the Eiffel Tower. The French heard us coming from 500 miles away, because those things were damn loud. Swish, swish! I had one flannel shirt that I really liked when we were all grunge. I was partial to Rickie Vasquez-esque vests, and I had a colorful one that I would pair with a purple silk shirt. Basically, the gayest I ever dressed was when I was in seventh grade.

When I was a sophomore in high school I had a chocolate corduroy blazer that never fit very well but I adored all the same. I wore corduroy a lot.

I wore a bright yellow windbreaker with a wide reflective horizontal stripe. It was from Old Navy. We had to write autobiographies during our junior year in high school for Mr. Lamb’s class. I made mine a comic book. I drew myself wearing that windbreaker.

I wore red Doc Marten boots and thought I was as cool as my sister.

I wore a maroon sweater with one central argyle pattern that was a hand-me-down from Marc S. At first I hated it, because I thought it was weird to have clothes that used to be my neighbor’s. Eventually it became one of my favorite things.

I bought Rohini a button-down military style shirt for her birthday one year, and I bought myself the same shirt. I wore it till it died.

I hated wearing ties when I was a kid. Eventually that changed. I would borrow from my dad’s endless inventory. I especially liked a maroon tie with dragonfly silhouettes in blue and green.

I like cardigans. The brown wool one I love has a hole in the left shoulder, and it’s about time to stop wearing it in public. I have a dull dark green cardigan in New Jersey that is truly a grandpa sweater: zipper, front pockets, not remotely fashionable. It was a gift from my parents to my grandfather the Christmas he passed away. I asked to keep it and am happy to wear it.

I bought a German field jacket at an Army/Navy store in London that lasted for about 12 years. I’ve been keeping it in the closet for a year even though it’s time to part with it. You can fit a paperback in the pocket! I haven’t found a suitable replacement.


Poem and Epilogue

I lost Jane Eyre
to an airplane.

TV: "If you don't have an iPhone, then you don't have iBooks..."
E: "You have an iPhone. You can read books on your tiny little screen."
B: "Ooh, I can zoom in on this page and see what that word is. Let me tell you, if they have fucking Jane Eyre on there, I will download it."
E: "What if they only have normal Jane Eyre but not Fucking Jane Eyre?"
B: "Fucking Jane Eyre is a brilliant novel that I am going to write."



Dear Bitchlog: That Noise At The Airport

Dear Bitchlog,

I have been traveling frequently for work. I could rant about so many aspects of air travel, but let's focus today. You know how they have those elongated golf carts/trams to help transport people around the airport? Well, at Newark, and maybe other airports, those carts do not have horns. So when the drivers of those carts--who always drive like they own the place--want you to get out of the way, the drivers mimic the sound of a vehicle horn with their voices. "Beep Beep! Beep Beep! Beep Beep!!!"

That would make me laugh if it didn't drive me fucking crazy.


The Rhythm of My Heart

We listened to The Suburbs on the way to the Arcade Fire concert, and I said I was fifty-fifty on "City With No Children", but that I liked the line "city with no children in it", because I tend to like when there are so many syllables that they feel like they won't "fit" in the rhythm allotted to them in. JP and Erica pressed for clarification, so I cited a few moments from other songs:

1) The other Arcade Fire song, "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)": "Well, whatever happened to them?!"

2) "He's A Rebel": "'Cause he never, ever does, what he should."

3) "It Hurts To Be In Love": "...not in love with you!"

JP then asked if The Darkness' "I Believe In A Thing Called Love" counted. "Just listen to the rhythm of my heart." Exactly!


Dear Nana

Dear Nana,

I am listening to the Met's broadcast of Die Walküre live on Colorado Public Radio as I blog. I don't think you were ever into Wagner, but I thought I'd tell you. It's like the modern-day equivalent of your standing room tickets.

Much love,




I think this Google Chrome advertisement featuring the It Gets Better Project is nifty. My initial reaction was, "Now is an exciting time to be alive."


Conversations In Cars With Parents

"I can't wait to get out of this tie," says my father. Or out of "these shoes." He always says this as if he has no control over it.


My mother is talking about about adding some kind of stone to the front of the house, because what a house looks like on the outside is important for selling it someday. "And our house looks...it's okay. But it's not the house I ever pictured living in."


Guys With briPhones

Last month, trying to locate a restaurant in NY:
"Look it up on your fancy phone."
"I can't believe you still don't have a smartphone."
"I'm not an early adopter."
Then I laughed at myself and added, "The iPhone came out in 2007!"

Naturally I'm going to use that nickname.


Where Were You

I was at chorus rehearsal. We were running through the concert and finished "Wheels of a Dream," which kicks me in the junk/makes me cry sometimes even during practice. Jesse told us that bin Laden had been killed. There was something of a collective gasp. Ben asked us, "What are you doing on your phones?" Earlier in the night, MJ and his husband brought in their newborn daughter, Phoebe.