The Soggy Blogger
I live in a soggy city. I have a soggy blog.
I'd rather be a soggy blogger than a soggy frog.

Friday, May 23, 2003  


This weekend we're going camping at Mount St. Helens. Quite an interesting location for one as abnormally concerned with natural disaster as myself, don't you think?

Happy Memorial Day weekend, everybody.

posted by Anne on 6:28 PM | link

Ego boost.

Today my thirteen-year-old friend returned from a four day fishing expedition with his seventh grade class. (I think my field trip in seventh grade was a day at the zoo. Like every year.) And when I picked him up at school this afternoon, an extraordinary event occurred: he smiled at me. We had a....had a......conversation!

Unless you know a thirteen year old, you do not know how isolating it can be to spend time with one. Slowly, and over the past few years, my friend has turned sullen, distant, and oh-too-cool for casual conversation with me. Between us, his queries are curt, and his replies monosyllabic. There is no shooting of the shit to be had. I began to fear that I was losing the great bookending terms in my status as "cool adult friend." I may have well been walking around with a big red A (for Adult) on my tee-shirt.

But today I learned that this is not the case. At least not fully. At least not yet. For a glorious twenty-minute car ride, he asked me in-depth questions, and answered mine at length. He laughed at my jokes. I laughed at his. I was the kick-ass cool adult friend that, deep in my heart, I knew I'd always been. And it felt great.

posted by Anne on 6:24 PM | link

Thursday, May 22, 2003  


This just in:

Via the magic of e-bay, a "haunted painting" has been scaring the bejeesus out of people across the nation. And no, this is not a Scooby-Doo plot. A good test of personal mettle is to read the painting description and history, and then see if you can bear to look at the image for a full three seconds. I couldn't. Scared the crap out of me, I don't mind telling you. See if you can do it...

In other news: Idiots, dunderheads, and fuckwits across the nation are having a difficult time lately keeping their beef-witted opinions to themselves. ...So what else is new?

posted by Anne on 8:45 AM | link

Wednesday, May 21, 2003  

Soggy Blogging.

My thoughts have lately been muddy. Not altogether negative or uninteresting, but...muddy...sticky. Everything clumps together, and it's hard to separate any one idea and write about it well.

I read and enjoy other blogs, and am ashamed of my own. But perhaps this is part of the problem -- too many voices, and I'm losing the ability to hear myself. I am afraid that I am losing my (sorry-ass semblance of a) style to everyone else's. Perhaps a cleansing period is in order.

Today, on the way home from work, I bought Writing Down the Bones, by Natalie Goldberg, and Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott. It's time to get to work. It's time to unscramble. It's time to figure out what's wrong, and make me write.

(Even this post seems hackneyed and secondhand: See better ones by Peter, Beerzie Boy, Griff, and Nicole. Must be going around.)

posted by Anne on 7:41 PM | link

posted by Anne on 1:39 PM | link

Lib'rul Youth?

What do you think of when you think of college life? If your experience was anything like mine, you remember a time of dogged idealism, fervent open-mindedness, and ritualistic substance abuse. These days, the substance abuse may be alive and well, but, at least in one small college in the midwest, our recent graduates have pooh-poohed the traditional peace-loving protocol in favor of behavior a bit more...

Well, I'll let you decide for yourself.

posted by Anne on 1:37 PM | link

Monday, May 19, 2003  

Do Not Disturb.

There are days in which we feel the lessons we've learned a bit more keenly....

... in which we marvel at all of the bad luck, disappointments, and mistakes that have brought us to the grand possibility that is today.

... in which it is enough to watch the world take place around us, and as we hang a "do not disturb" sign on our psyche, we begin to see how we are part of the process.

These days are often Mondays.

posted by Anne on 7:00 PM | link

Weirdest. Daytrip. Ever.

This last Saturday, in our ongoing tradition of packing up the cooler and heading elsewhere for the day, Colin and I drove over the mountains and into beautiful Leavenworth, Washington, to attend their annual "Maifest" celebration. (Like Octoberfest, but in May.) In retrospect, not the best idea we've ever had.

Leavenworth bills itself as "Washington's Bavarian Village," and with good reason. Everything in the entire town, from the Starbucks to the Safeway, has been built to look like something out of the movie set of "Heidi." The surrounding snowy mountain peaks add a sense of borrowed legitimacy to this display, and one can't help but admit, while driving through the town, that it has a certain quaint attraction. Once you get out of the car, it's a different story altogether.

It's just so...precious. And decidedly, almost rebelliously, unhip. The entire town seems to exist for the sole purpose of creating and maintaining a Bavarian facade. It's like the fake Germany in Epcot Center, except people actually live there. Beautiful, yes. But also very...creepy.

...Which begs the question, "what about the children?" The innocent youth of Leavenworth, Washington, who are forced to live in Faux-Bavaria; do they watch television and yearn for the American normalcy of "regular looking" towns? Do the teenagers feel special, or do they dream of the day they turn eighteen and can move to the nearby town of Cashmere, whose only oddity is an over-zealous pride in their apples? Do they even know how strange their town is?

Other kids do. After Colin and I had exhausted our brief walking tour of the town and its festival, and were walking -- past Alpine-wood-framed store windows showcasing the requisite Bavarian food and craft -- back to our car, we passed two teenaged boys. They wore the garb and the mannerisms of the young skater-punk, and the hang-dog expressions on their faces told us that they were less than thrilled to be there. As they walked quickly into and out of our earshot, we heard a brief, but telling, snippet of their conversation: "See? Doesn't this town fucking suck?"

Leavenworth, WA: Not recommended for children under the age of 60.

posted by Anne on 11:39 AM | link
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