Oh, hello. I'm Meaghan O'Connell.
Welcome to my tumblr! I have been writing and reading here since 2008. Here are some highlights.
I worked at Tumblr for awhile in the early days, and then Kickstarter for a bit longer.
In 2010, I spent a long time co-editing and -publishing and -rallying around a thing called Coming & Crying. If you like sex and feelings and have $8, you can buy the e-book here.
And sure, follow me on Twitter if you want, you pervert.
This week we learned the verb avoir, to have. We also learned the words for family members — mom, dad, sister, etc.
I was paired up with this older (60s-ish?) woman, and we had to go back and forth down the list and say whether we had different relationships — a son, a daughter, a husband, a father-in-law, kids, grandparents.
I guess you can see where this is going.
I don’t have parents. I don’t have grandparents. I don’t have a father. I don’t have a mother. I don’t have a son. I don’t have a daughter. I don’t have a husband. I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend (she laughed at this one a lot).
Luckily she had a sister and a brother and some cousins (but no tantes or oncles!). I found myself wanting to lie and say I didn’t have a mother either, to make her feel better. And if I could have broken up with my boyfriend in the minutes between realizing I was going to have to say J’ai un petit ami and saying it, I would have.
This fucking class (that I chose to take and paid for). I am so sick of repeating shit over and over, unable to hear myself because of the goddamn chanteuse talking louder than everyone else.
also the intro to this PR interview is batshit crazy. enjoy…
Can we talk about the Penguin Cafe Orchestra?
The fun part
my list of things i miss about having a job. i REALLY miss arguing about shit. like, all i want is to just sit across from some people at a table and make a really good point. prob not a great sign
"Ah, oui, écrivain" *walks over to the board, turns around, looks at me, entire class looks at me* "What do you write?"
*all present hold their breath*
"UM, UH, I DUNNO."
This answer is not acceptable. People keep looking at me, waiting.
My brain flips through things like a rolodex. Should I say “copy”? Should I just say “copywriter”? What am I writing now? Some kind of nonfiction thing? An essay? Is that what he means? But it’s not an essay! I should just say copy!
"LOTS OF THINGS I GUESS?"
(in patient, heavy french accent) “Okay, écrivain is suitable.”
"FICTION!" (like a tourette’s patient)
“Okay, uh, écrivain. Je suis écrivain!”
I nod, look at next person longingly. Like, GO, WE’RE DONE HERE.
"Yes. écrivain. It’s a male word.”
"Oh, great. Perfect."