Tag Archives: D.C.

Writing Like a Rock Star

25 Wednesday May 2011

Posted by in Writing

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I spent last Saturday at the DC 101 Chili Cook-off with Andrew and my 14-year-old sister, Becca (I figured that if the end of the world were to happen, listening to music and eating free chili with two of the people I love most would be a good way to go out).

Becca loves Weezer. She loves that band with the passion that many people only get for a few years in their teens. Becca’s a musician herself on piano and guitar (lucky for my dad, who had to wait a long time for a fellow musician in a daughter), has committed all the lyrics to the 100+ Weezer songs in their repertoire to memory and is learning to play as many as she can. You should hear the way she talks about Rivers Cuomo. He stood within a few inches of her at one point in their set, so she got a good look at one of her idols. The phrase, “the face of glory” came up more than twice. What amazes me is that this is her second-favorite band we’re talking about. If she ever sees her favorites live, we might need to have a stretcher handy.

One of the things that stood out to me, though, is that Becca mentioned that Rivers Cuomo has a reputation for having kind of a big head.

“He thinks he’s better than everybody,” she told me, and I heard admiration in her voice. “He’ll probably insult us when he comes onstage.”

They came onstage late, in fact, which sounds like the norm for a concert, but you need to consider that 1. the Cook-off started at 11:00 a.m. and they weren’t due onstage until 6:45 p.m., so they had plenty of time to get ready, and 2. the other bands played on time. When Weezer did saunter onstage, though, the crowd went nuts.

I meant to be annoyed at this swaggering behavior, but I found myself intrigued. Imagine the sheer confidence it takes to show up to work late, announce over a microphone that you intend to attempt to have sex with everyone present before the end of the day (as the lead singer of Panic! At the Disco did – make the announcement, that is, not necessarily follow through), and expect people to cheer? It must be exhilarating.

I’ve noticed that in general, musicians and writers and the like tend to fall in one of two camps. The first is the down-to-earth, approachable, fan-friendly type (Switchfoot and Neil Gaiman come to mind). The second is those people who know their music or writing is boss and don’t feel the need to tell a crowd that they’re looking beautiful tonight, or anything else for that matter (think of Harlan Ellison, who’s said he sees no reason for fans to expect autographs or meetings with him, that the books he’s written more than cover any obligation he may have to them).

The perk of the first camp is that I think you have a much more meaningful connection with people who like your work. Especially in an age where publishing is going through all kinds of changes and authors are expected to take a much larger role in marketing their work, I think it’s valuable to create a sense of community and connection. The other important fact to keep in mind is that people like Rivers Cuomo and Harlan Ellison earned their attitudes by virtue of a large quantity of excellent work. If I go around acting like an ass with no credit to my name, I’m just an arrogant jerk.

The perk of the second camp, though, is that I think on occasion people who do put out a lot of excellent work try so hard to be approachable and friendly that they almost end up apologizing for their success. My other sister, Elisabeth, has a tendency to downplay her accomplishments. She’s studying theater and business management, has worked on short notice and on plays that have been nominated for awards, but getting her to take a compliment can be like trying to catch a fish with your hands. Allowing yourself a certain confidence and awareness of your talents can be really empowering, and if the Weezer concert is any indication, as long as you have the talent to back it up, your fans will even embrace some swagger. I’m having fun adopting a bit of this attitude while I’m writing, complimenting myself on my word count or a sentence that comes out particularly well.

If you’re creative, do you find yourself more on the side of ultra-confidence or humble approachability? If you’re consider yourself more of a fan than an artist, do you admire arrogance in writers and musicians, or is it a turnoff?

The Proposal Story

11 Wednesday May 2011

Posted by in Love, Wedding

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By request:

So Andrew and I have been going to see the cherry blossoms in D.C. every year for the past three years. The first year we went, we were giddy because he had just come back from three months in England the day before. The second year it rained, we went after peak season, and I sprained my foot from the sheer amount of walking we did, but it was still fun–we huddled by the hot chocolate stand when we got too damp, took strategic close-up photos of remaining blossoms so photo evidence would look lusher than what we actually saw, and he offered to carry me back to the Metro station. This year was the third year, and, unfortunately, my schedule was super-full, and we didn’t get to go.

At least, that was the plan.

So on Thursday, my Sunday dinner plans fell through. I was disappointed, but couldn’t very well blame my friends for illness and last-minute project panic. I sent Andrew a quick email asking him if he wanted to go to D.C. with me instead, and he replied, quite enthusiastically, that he would.

So Sunday: he picks me up at the church where I work, still in fancy clothes (button-down, dress slacks). He told me he hadn’t had time to change after church. We drove down to the Metro and hopped on the Orange Line. Now, Andrew’s got budding Dad Pockets already, between wallet, a hefty bunch of keys on a lanyard, and phone, so I was teasing him by playfully grabbing at his pocket. He told me later that I actually grabbed the ring box at one point (I thought it was his phone!). Seeing as how I didn’t gasp or give him a knowing look, he started breathing again, and put his jacket on his lap as a protective measure for the rest of the ride.

The cherry blossoms were GORGEOUS this year. Big, frothy things bobbing up and down (one of the things I love about the cherry trees is no one prunes the runaway limbs, so you have to duck under them as you walk. It can be a little scary when you’re walking four abreast on a narrow strip of sidewalk with nothing separating you and the water and realize a huge branch is now blocking the way as well, but I think trees deserve to be allowed to make proper canopies. Besides, even if you fell in, you could grab a branch to pull yourself out!). Andrew and I meandered around, taking photos of each other and narrowly escaping arrest for illegally climbing flowering trees (so worth it).

Frothy blossoms!

My fantastic almost-fiance, illegally climbing a tree

I am not above flirting with a tree branch

Eventually, we started to talk about going somewhere for dinner. We headed off the path, just to notice a little clearing with some beautiful trees and almost no one around. Andrew said he wanted to “look at” these trees, and I’m like “Okay! Trees are pretty!” So we’re standing there, and I turn around and he has a card in his hand. I recognized it from a prior Valentine’s day–it’s a little card with two birds in a tree and one is singing to the other and it’s adorable. Andrew told me he had wanted to write me a card because we don’t do that often anymore, and again he’s romantic enough and I was oblivious enough that I took this at face value. The card was really sweet, all about how many things remind him of me every day, and how important it is to him that I am in his life. So we hug, and kiss, and then he says, “And…”

And I say, “There’s an ‘and’?”

And he tells me again how he will never stop loving me, and I tell him this too, and it was only when he said, “So I wanted to ask you…” that it finally hit that this was our moment, right now.

And he got down on one knee, and pulled out the ring, and I was crying, and he said, “Will you marry me?”

And all of a sudden I realized that I had my hands on my face and I was so happy I couldn’t speak. Which was a bit of a problem, because the man I love more than anything is on one knee and would probably like an answer. So I start nodding, and as soon as I can take my hands off my face I say “Yes,” and we spent the next 20 minutes laughing and kissing and crying and saying “Oh my God” way too many times and jumping up and down.

Neither of us wanted to wait through dinner before telling people, so we went straight home to my family and told them, and then to his parent’s house. By the time we got back to my car at the church, all the restaurants were closed, so we went back to my place and ate leftover spaghetti and split the last bit of wine in the bottle, and it was completely fitting.

Hooray!