Chris used to say that if you wanted to know what was going on in my life and my head, you had only to look at the magazines I was reading. And he was right; I have a regular roster of mags that I can’t pass by, and though they may have changed over the years, generally they are my steadies – when Sassy gave way to Jane I switched to Bust (I have every issue since #2, yo), and Details gave way to Walllpaper which I ditched shortly after Tyler Brule did in favour of the occasional Dwell or Martha Stewart. (yes, I often choose between the two for the same areyoufuckingcrazy – I mean, aspirational, reasons.)
But it’s the specialty mags that tell my stories best. When Chris and I were engaged, wedding and bridal mags were stacked throughout our apartment. And they’re expensive, and we had a two-year engagement, so I probably could have paid for a good chunk of the wedding with the magazine budget alone. But they were fun, and me and my sisters liked to pick out which dress we liked best on every page (a throwback to a game we used to play with the Sears catalogue).
A couple of years after the wedding, we started looking for our first house. Enter the interior design/DIY mags. Loads of them, each one elevating our already lofty dreams of what we could achieve in a starter home to the realm of the sublimely ridiculous.
Fittingly, I got pregnant two minutes after we bought the house. Before I got pregnant, I had fantasies of taking the test, seeing the positive result and in my glowing, zen state, purchasing a few baby and pregnancy magazines to leave on the coffee table, thus communicating our good news to Chris. Uh, not quite. I don’t know about you, but when I found out I was pregnant, I freaked out and paced back and forth for two hours, waiting for Chris to come home and shaming myself for wanting sooooo badly to do the one thing I knew I would never do again – smoke a cigarette. Anyway, eventually pregnancy, parenting and health magazines relegated home improvement rags to the back of the closet, for inspiration at a later date. Right. But I got over the baby mags pretty soon, not being one for convential thought on parenting. Only Mothering made the cut.
Now that I have a mortgage and a child and bills to pay, and little spare time and a blog, the few magazines that I still subscribe to remain unread for months at a time. So, how does one now know where my head’s at? No, no, don’t bother asking me. I will shrug everything off and ask you if you want to go for brunch or play scrabble or something. Instead, just check out my most-played songs on itunes, or look in my bag to see which CDs I’m shlepping to and from work everyday. And now my point –
Motherbumper tagged me for a meme that I was jealous other people were doing. I’m giving you all a look into my bag…
Snow (Hey Oh) – rhcp
Oh, Anthony Kedis. So vulnerable. So emotive. You’re deep, I get it. Hey, when did Will Farrel join the band?
Soul Meets Body – Death Cab for Cutie
‘You’re the only song I want to hear.’ If I were 16 again, that would be the quote on the first page of my diary. Ah, Seth Cohen was right.
Stay or Leave – Dave Matthews
Say what you will about Dave. I love him.
Fix You – Coldplay
I’m a sucker for power endings.
Zion – Lauren Hill
I think she’s a bit of a crazy loon these days, but still, this song pretty much says what it means to be a mother, no?
Expectations – Belle and Sebastian
The poor girl in the song can’t catch a break – she’s destined to work some bottom-level job, the kids tease her, the teachers look up her skirt. It’s all very sad. But such a catchy tune.
Constellations – Jack Johnson
Ok, my turn. I want to know what
Cinnamon Gurl , Crazymumma , Not So Sage , NoMo And Jen are rockin out to these days.