Life is hard. Here is someone.

Srsly

Sun, 21 Mar 2010 15:24:25 -0400

Srsly

o god it’s wonderful to sit in the park all day get...

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 18:14:00 -0400

o god it’s wonderful

to sit in the park all day

get fucking sunburned

and come home and read this book on the couch

Photo

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 02:20:06 -0400

I also told Scott Simpson that i was very good at dry-humping because I was raised Catholic and he...

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 02:05:57 -0400

I also told Scott Simpson that i was very good at dry-humping because I was raised Catholic and he threatened to leave his wife for me.

give you something to read.

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 01:46:00 -0400

When I got back from Austin my roommate asked me how it was and I was sitting in bed with big headphones on, hunched over my laptop after midnight, the way I had missed. I shrugged and managed something like, “Mostly good!” and shrugged more and she went into her room and I kept writing, transcribing something from a notebook that seemed alive when I had written it, on a plane with a pen, half asleep.

She came back a few minutes later and sat on the edge of my bed and said, So how was it, really?

I pulled headphones off from around my neck, sat up in indian style so she could maybe see my shrugs more clearly (maybe she didn’t see them the first time? I thought).

It was overwhelming was what I think I told her, sometimes wonderful, sometimes terrible.

It felt like the first day of camp, or school, every day, and all the good and bad that entails. Kinda like your first day back to high school, sophomore year. You know some people and things could go either way and you’re about to find out if you got cooler over the summer. But you also have a cold. And are running off to the bathroom to send emails to a boy you like but are unsure of and if he doesn’t email you back, like, right away it probably means you’re doomed. The weather was wonderful. Austin seems great (seems). But it’s camp and it’s not like real life and you didn’t get to see much except the lobbies of hotels and the backs of heads and the way the hotel chairs feel on your bare legs you really should have shaved last night. I’d like to go back to Austin, I tell her, I’d love to go back.

One afternoon my friend came and met me in the lobby of a fancy hotel and we sat on a fluffy couch. I was editing stories for the book. He put his face on a fluffy cushion and looked at me. “You seem down,” he said. I didn’t feel down, not really— the tumblr party was the night before and it was wonderful and fun and also sent me into a mental tailspin, a wonderful one, yes, but my head was on the fluffy couch cushion, too, after all. He said that conferences like this always felt very different than you think they will— that they feel surprisingly lonely. I hadn’t put that word to it yet, maybe because that isn’t a word that is very fun to put to things.

We left after sitting there talking about work and happy things and lots of nodding and talking about making things up as we go along and tossing the word surreal back and forth with a sincerity and enthusiasm most reserved for conferences where you spend a handful of days meeting people who know you or who you know; people who know far more than you and make you feel young and new and make you wonder how you go here. People, too, who seem to be so wrong, people who scare you with how wrong they are, and the conviction that seems to accompany this— that trying to pretend that we aren’t all making everything up as we go along is enough to make you lay one cheek on a fluffy couch cushion of a fancy hotel, tell a friend you just saw chloe sevigny walking through here and shrug and show him your sunburn and say, “Yes, here is the book, stapled together and scribbled on. I think it is good, really, and how scary is that?”

All of the postulating put forth like it isn’t That (scary) is enough to make you want to crawl home down city blocks back to your lonely hotel room; it makes you thankful for the sunglasses you haven’t worn since the last blush of fall. You can shove your conference badge into your tote bag that everyone has and makes you want to die and hide. You spend most of the weekend, actually, wanting to hide. A conference, you think. Is this okay, you wonder, or is this all of the jokes about conferences you’ve seen on television? How is this any different? How can it be?

I am new to the Internet, I want to remind everyone. I didn’t know about this thing a few years ago. I don’t know the names of all of your heroes. I’m just learning them. I like meeting people whose blogs I read on Tumblr. That’s kind of it? (***infinite shrugging***)

Every person who asks me about the book scares me, makes me want to run back to my hotel room and work on it. Instead I pat my totebag and say, “It’s right here!” while I think, How do you know me? You mean this all counted? This is all real? Real enough that everyone is here and pretending to know what they’re talking about?

I got to see people I adore and had gotten used to thinking I’d never meet a long time ago, and yet here they were. We sat at a table and drank coffee and beer and diet coke and sometimes water and I wondered what it all meant but figured I’d read the answer on someone’s blog when I got home to New York. Someone I adore asked me how my apartment was and wasn’t I in love with it and wasn’t I subletting from an artist or designer or something and wasn’t it really awesome?

I stared past his shoulder for a second, missing a beat. “Wait,” I said, “When did I tell you about that?” I tried to remember the last time I was in LA and was excited to be in the same room as him and didn’t think I even knew I was moving yet.

He laughed, amazed. “You wrote about it on your blog!”

My eyes got big and I drank out of my iced coffee and said, Oh, ha and looked away and remembered that I did things like that and he said, You are so freaked out that I brought up your blog in person, aren’t you?” and I said, “Ha. Yes,” and wondered how dumb that seemed, me in my Tumblr t-shirt at an internet conference.

People asked me about work all weekend, shaking my hand, telling me they were happy about the book and loved my blog and then cocked their head, always, midway through our conversation, wanting to know what it was I did at Tumblr exactly. My stock answer was (and is) (dammit now everyone knows), “We’re still trying to figure that out!” and I say it like it’s a joke and it’s my way of avoiding the question, yes, because I don’t like having meta-conversations about work but also, it is true and that is what this whole industry is doing, trying to figure things out, and as dumb as some panels are and as amazing as some panels are, from make you feel alive to make you get up and leave, that’s usually the difference, I’ve found: are we admitting that this is new and wonderful and scary and we are trying to figure it out as we go along, or do we think we are special and Get It like no one else does and are here to tell you How Things Are (and if so, OMG shut up!).

I think that weekend was about realizing that people are watching you and they like you and they are looking to you for answers and you are mixed up in some of the most exciting work in the world right now but all you can really honestly do is shrug and say, “We’re still trying to figure that out!” and trust that that means something.

"What matters to us—in all the work that we do, on whatever platform may present itself—is the..."

Fri, 19 Mar 2010 15:15:54 -0400

“What matters to us—in all the work that we do, on whatever platform may present itself—is the quality and consequence of an idea, and the clarity and power of its expression. We believe, and we believe that you believe, that of the many and proliferating means for communicating big ideas, one of the most effective, and therefore most enduring, is fiction.”

- The Atlantic is bringing fiction back. (awww!)

"Where do you work, toomanyenvelopes.com?"

Fri, 19 Mar 2010 11:01:00 -0400

“Where do you work, toomanyenvelopes.com?”

- The post office guy doesn’t like it when I bring him 30 meetup kits at once.

Meaghan,

I got one of your mass e-mail thanking all of your backers from Kickstarter a few weeks ago and I meant to comment on the "Hey lady, are you still on Tumblr??" question but I never got around to it, so here it is. I have "Ask"-ed, therefore I am. And since we're on the subject of meaning to do things but never getting around to them until now, I also wanted to let you know/update you about "The Revolution That Is Tumblr."

I attend the University of California, Berkeley as an anthropology/media studies double major (kill me now) and I'm currently taking a class on anthropological film which, lo and behold, requires each of its students to create their own Tumblr account as a personal journal chronicling the progress they're making with regards to their film. I thought it brilliant and interesting just because (1) it's innovative (in its whole embracing-this-new-media-platform-for-education angle) and (2) I love blogging and I already do it on a daily basis SOWHATTHEHECKI'MTOTALLYACINGTHISCLASSRIGHT. Being the stalker that I am, I decided to check out the Tumblr blog of my graduate student instructor (the demigod in charge of handing out our grades for the class; oh the politics of academia!) which then links to her "more serious blog" which is, alas, Wordpress. Imagine my surprise when, while scrolling down through the comments in one of her entries (i.e. http://middlesavagery.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/tumblr-in-the-classroom/#comments), I find a comment from YOU (or someone posing as you) about the wonders of utilizing Tumblr in the classroom (which is exactly what I thought, but like everything wonderful in this world, you get to it first). Anyway, I sat there for a moment thinking about how small this world is when it comes to the internet and Tumblr and OMGIT'SFRIGGINMEAGHANOCOMMENTINGONMYGSI'SBLOG.

After a bit of fangirling, I got over it. Brushed it off. I thought to myself, "Well, my GSI's getting a short comment from her, but I'M getting LONGER mass e-mails. I totes win."

Anyway, I look forward to your book.

Always,
Beatrice

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 14:04:12 -0400

Ha! THAT WAS NOT A MASS EMAIL I ACTUALLY EMAILED EVERYONE THANKYOU.

But thank you and YES tumblr-in-the-classroom seems like a big duh awesome thing! And of COURSE I commented on that thing because I know the entire internet, doye. it’s in the job descrip.

In all seriousness I would love to hear from anybody about it, from questions to stories to feature requests to ways we can help support you in your academic internet adventures.

sexpigeon: Attempt to shake a fist at this young woman and her...

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:20:00 -0400

sexpigeon:

Attempt to shake a fist at this young woman and her kindness will swerve your wrist around into a knock. “Hello,” then, you’ve got to say, your hand hanging in the air like an updrafted tumbleweed. Pleasant.

Ha! This is me being starstruck because i was talking to him for like 10 minutes and finally asked what his tumblr was and he said sexpigeon and i screamed and hit him.

by tagsavage <3<3<3

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:17:51 -0400

by tagsavage

<3<3<3

whenever i'm gone from the office for a few days the ibuprofen gets moved to the top shelf.

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 18:34:21 -0400

"A print ad, meanwhile, shows a woman driving a convertible with this text: “I tied a tampon to my..."

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 17:44:32 -0400

“A print ad, meanwhile, shows a woman driving a convertible with this text: “I tied a tampon to my key ring so my brother wouldn’t take my car. It worked.””

- hats off!

although the article also talks about how they aren’t allowed to say VAGINA on television so they try to say “down there” which STILL didn’t fly. jeeeesuss. i am going to say vagina 5x more every day than i normally would to make up for this. and i say vagina A LOT.

"What kept the book from being insufferable is that Lorrie Moore can really write (as her many fans..."

Wed, 17 Mar 2010 13:42:00 -0400

“What kept the book from being insufferable is that Lorrie Moore can really write (as her many fans know).”

- tournament of books is off to a running start and THIS GUY is on notice because i detect some condescension. as her many fans know! pah! she can ‘really write.’ fucking duh.

(although i agree with most of his [albeit too harsh] criticism). (still). (fist shaking abounds).

"Should I get a cowboy hat?"

Sun, 14 Mar 2010 21:35:18 -0400

“Should I get a cowboy hat?”

- Marco is drunk again

Omg Marco is drunk

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 23:10:09 -0500

Omg Marco is drunk

I opened the cab door and saw this and yelled WHAT THE FUCK?! in...

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 12:15:50 -0500

I opened the cab door and saw this and yelled WHAT THE FUCK?! in front of like 10 people and the cabbie was like CHILL OUT WERE GONNA DO THIS and opened it up and I was like HEY SWEET RIDE and he was like YEA LOTS OF LEG ROOM and I was like WELL I DONT HAVE LONG LEGS SO and he said THATS OKAY! and I said THANKS!

Well I dunno what they do in TEXAS

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 12:12:23 -0500

Me: hey i'm here!
Jared: Sweet!
Me: So...uh, how do I get to the hotel from the airport?
Jared: get a cab
Me: THERE ARENT ANY CABS HERE
Jared: okay, go to amazon.com
Me: okay?
Jared: go to your wishlist, type in "Austin taxi"
Me: ok...
Jared: are you?
Me: no I mean I don't have my computer out, I'll do it on my phone when we hang up--
Jared: well get it out!
Me: BUT IT DOESNT HAVE ANY BATTERY!
Jared: Meaghan. You don't order cabs on Amazon.

Why do good things happen to bad people an vice verse?

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 16:40:10 -0500

How much time do you have?

coming to a bookstore near you.

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 13:39:03 -0500

halle: he's probably younger than he looks
me: Hah
Halle: which again, is CRAZY OLD
me: *rationalize, rationalize*
Halle: yeah, LOOOOOOOOOOOL
the title of our dating book
me: HAHHHH
Halle: o, we should write a DATING BOOK!
like the rules, but funny and not real
me: ha
you already have the pitch
me: "Like The Rules, But Funny And Not Real"
Halle: Chapter 4: How to Date a Grandpa
me: He's not really That Old, right?
that's the subtitle
"I mean, Age is Relative"
to how lonely and unattractive you are'
Halle: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOL
me: It's really inversely proportionate to your desperation. Simple math, ladies.'
Halle: haaaaaaaaaaaaahahaha
all cats are gray in the dark
me:Just make sure he isn't one of your many, many actual cats
Halle: and by cats we mean dicks
me: You'll know the difference because when HE steps in the cats water bowl he will yell out with a passion unmatched in your tired and mediocre lovemaking
Halle: at the end of every chapter we are like, Remember Check to make sure that the man you are dating is not actually one of your cats. Does he have claws? Whiskers? A tiny knit baby bonnet?
me: HAHAHHA
Halle: this book is writing itself
me: How To Tell If You Are Dating Your cat

Hah.

Fri, 12 Mar 2010 12:57:35 -0500

Hah.