I never fail to bawl like a little infant when I hear this song.
I stream a lot of television from the Internets, which means A LOT of captcha tests to make sure I’m a human (just because I give you a blank stare when you’re talking to me because I’m probably thinking about boys/kittens/boys with kittens doesn’t mean I’m a robot, I promise!).
I screenshot the good ones. Like this one.
Because that’s the name of my next band. There are more. And you’ll see them all.
Awhile back, a friend asked what LinkedIn was, and I described it as “Ok Cupid for job hunting.” I realized pretty immediately that was an inaccurate assessment. I only said that because the two services shared a common feature: the ability to see who looked at your profile (something that creates a lot of anxiety for me in using both sites). Shortly thereafter, this same friend decided to make an Ok Cupid profile, and as I tried to help her sell herself (in the metaphorical sense) as the best dating candidate out there, I mused that it would be pretty cool if we could “friend” each other using the site, and be each other’s virtual wingwomen.
As I’ve slowly started to dip my toes into the gigantic and terrifying ocean of online dating (for the second time since I moved here), I’ve started thinking of an idea that would combine the two sites.
I’m no web developer, and I’m no dating expert, so this is going to get a bit convoluted, but please hear me out.
I’ve been dreaming and scheming of this idea for some time. The (currently nameless) site would feature all the same familiar aspects of Ok Cupid: the ability to fill out your own profile with your likes, dislikes, interests, professional and personal ambitions, photos, and the like. It would show you matches based on location and common interests. However, like LinkedIn, you could connect with other users and build a network of “wingmen/women,” who could endorse you for certain skills, such as “excellent communication,” “creative date ideas,” “good kisser,” and “won’t slow fade,” and the like. This network could be made up of people the user knows personally, or has met using the site. Unlike LinkedIn, the endorsements would be anonymous (because there’s no need for any more stress or animosity than online dating already provides).
Is this something that could work? Does something like this already exist? Is some entrepreneur out there going to sue me for millions for copyright infringement? What would you call this particular site? Would you use this?
I am filled with regret and peanut butter
It’s only Wednesday and I’ve already flashed a group of Orthodox Jewish men AND looked at a former (hm, what’s the word…) “fling’s” Ok Cupid profile without turning off my Visitors setting. My week can only go up from here!
I heard this song the very first time I visited the coffee shop in Syracuse (the background of my picture) I would wind up spending almost every Sunday at studying until graduation. I felt a little foolish for having my secret desire sung for me by some pretty British singer-songwriter.
That coffee shop (and the one around the corner) morphed from a quiet place to write some papers to a part of my life I knew I would have trouble giving up when I moved away. My roommates jokingly called me “The Coffee Shop Gnome,” a nickname at which I initially took offense but eventually embraced once I realized I might spend more time there than at my own house. I had some fellow coffee shop gnomes who turned up at the same times each week and who sat at the same tables and who drank their coffee the same way each time.
We rarely knew each others’ names, and when we would run into each other at the grocery store, or on the street, or at a bar, we’d almost not recognize the other person outside their caffeinated habitat. I loved being part of that nameless group. Though we would never speak about it out loud, we all knew each others’ reason for calling those coffee shops our second home: the need to be among humanity. We constantly craved the human interaction that was noticeably missing from our solitary homework assignments. Even the simple act of making eye contact with someone else from across the cafe was exhilarating enough to get us out of our houses on even the coldest Syracuse Sundays.
On a rare occasion, I’ll feel a little homesick for Syracuse, but I’m really only feeling those pangs for my coffee shops. There’s one by my apartment with great coffee and attractive bearded men and there’s that other one many neighborhoods north with great coffee and attractive bearded men (Clearly Brooklyn is nothing if chock full of homogenous coffee shops). In the last month the baristas at the two I mentioned said, “I see you here all the time. What’s your name?” I got that question on an almost twice-weekly basis last year. I used to feel little uncomfortable when someone else pointed out how much time I spent there. The discomfort turned to pride eventually, and I was just happy to forge a (fleeting) connection with another human. But when I introduced myself to the Brooklyn baristas, I realized I hadn’t had the opportunity to do that in quite some time. It felt familiar. It felt good.
"Euclid Avenue and Ackerman Avenue // "Portions for Foxes" by Rilo Kiley
I hadn’t slept in a few days. I overdrew my bank account to pay for birth control. I just lost another apartment in Brooklyn. I was pretty sure I was going to rot in Syracuse forever. I realized how much I cared about someone I might never see again. I had to walk to work. It started raining. I started crying. Jenny Lewis started singing.
Over beers and pizza, my roommate and I talked about how every place here has a story. Every intersection, storefront, porch, bodega, park bench, train station, and coffee shop has witnessed something in our lives. It doesn’t matter what, even something as simple as receiving a text message there gives a place significance to me. I’ve called three cities my home, and that means endless streets and sidewalks have seen me at my worst, at my best, and everything in between.”
Check out the latest issue of The Miscreant for my reflection on the most innocuous places holding the strongest memories, Miss Miscreant’s interview with Mutual Benefit, and Lizzy’s amazing art! And please submit to the next issue because I know you have something to say too.
Now enjoy issue 48 of The Miscreant, featuring Mutual Benefit! Read, enjoy, and share the issue here.
In this issue: an interview with the wonderful Jordan Lee of Mutual Benefit, Cassandra’s memories tied to street corners, Kenzie’s equilibrium playlist, Tori’s study of the good and bad girls of pop music, Holly’s lesson in the music scene of Northampton, Connor’s favorite Daniel Johnston songs, Ben’s ode to bedroom music writing, Andi’s story of traveling to New York and finding a new home, Olivia’s love letter to the music of Manchester, Kyle’s lessons from Gossip Girl, Mary’s thoughts on the current state of music writing, and much more!
Submit to Issue 49 of The Miscreant by 2/21!! Email your work to themiscreant at miscreantrecords dot com.
I was at a party last March, and I met this girl. We were making small talk, and she mentioned that she was Iranian, and she was majoring in Middle Eastern Studies. I told her, “I’m sorry, this is going to make me sound so ignorant, but the only things I really know about Iran I learned in Persepolis." She smiled and said, "That’s more than a lot of other people know. It’s a great book, don’t be ashamed." Prior to that moment, I hadn’t given much thought to the book or the film since I devoured it (twice) in high school. The film adaptation was the first French movie I could watch without subtitles. I felt really good about that.
Marjane Satrapi insisted that Chiara Mastroianni sing “Eye of the Tiger” off-key.