Mourning the end of an era. Me, like the rest of the world picking up the collective pieces of our broken hearts upon hearing the news this week that Brangelina (our celebrity golden couple who's ungodly paring of superior bone structure and hearty charity efforts dazzled us for a decade) is through. And yes, I know there are certainly more pressing issues in the news right now than the dissolving marriage of hollywood's best, but the news of it has me feeling admittedly pretty blue and I have to come here to talk about it because Mike (nor my best friend) care enough for my needs and liking. I feel almost like I am a distant relative eternally rooting for slim chance of a resolution. For the kids. For the fans. For the good of this nation. I read somewhere that the reason their break up is more stinging is than all the rest is because they represent the last of the old school celebrity skins who managed to uphold an air of mystery about their lives and marriage in a day and age where people are apt to become famous simply for being famous. Every move they make documented via live stream on social media sites and every detail being willing exploit for mindless tabloid fodder. Brad and Angie were different. And they were suppose to be together forever. That's why I saved all the magazines with them in it, and fawned over that controversial W spread even when everyone else was still harvesting bitter resentment in favor of #TeamJen. I was feeling so low yesterday that when I got tired of looking through all the archives of their stunning 10 year union over breakfast, I watched By the Sea - which the critics ripped apart for being slow, self involved and boring - but I loved. Especially because it came paired with a room full of laundry to sort while getting lost in the hallow caves of Angelina's cheekbones glinting in the foreign sunlight of that fancy France hotel stay, for two hours straight on an otherwise uneventful Wednesday afternoon during Haye's 12:00 nap. Yes it's slow, yes it feels at times elitest and dull, but with styling, cinematography and setting considered, I couldn't bring myself to be bothered by it. - check this video and feel sad all over again.
Listening to Sia's newest song The Greatest on repeat (obsessively on repeat) after reading the meaning behind it, and deciding that Sia (who I was too quick to dismiss early on) is quite possibly the most thrilling thing on the pop scene as of late. And man, her videos are even better. Maddie's magnetism, which pushes through on screen in that interpretive herky jerky dance jive they've got down, I never get tired of. Seeing the visuals paired here with these lyrics in this song as a tribute to the victims of the Pure nightclub shooting though hurts in the very best way a video dedicated to something so heavy rightfully should. In short, I was wrong about Sia. She's astounding.
Regretting losing out again this year to the Hollywood Bowl event with Danny Elfman - and all the rest of the original voices behind of A Nightmare Before Christmas will be narrating the movie live, in light of a full orchestra. Fun fact: my first concert was the Oingo Boingo Farewell Tour when I was nine, so I guess I was hoping to come full circle with this concert but I missed the window of opportunity on the one day we could make it and now decent seating in the nose bleed costs an arm. I can't stop kicking myself for dropping the ball on an early purchase for something so, incredibly, cool.... Next year....?
Bracing myself for a four night getaway to a small Mexican surf village early next month for our ten year anniversary. In the nearly 20 years we've been together Mike and I have actually never flown with each other so he has no idea how anxious (or tipsy) I get preflight. I'm a little worried for us both. The place I picked looks pretty amazing but also happens to be hunkered right in the middle of the Baja desert, so my irrational fears are growing wider than the ocean we're flying over by the day. While Mike admits to feeding fantasies about building a giant palapa to live under like a friend he knows while owning a remote piece of land out there, I'm googling homicide statistics to ensure my vacationing safety is not at great threat. Here's to plenty of salted tequila rims working their magic as aid to my typical travel neurosis.
Looking forward to another upcoming weekend in October where I'll be covering Modernism Week in Palm Springs for three days. From what I know the event includes a bus top tour around some of the cities finest historical homes, lectures on the architecture, and a couple of parties by a pool that doesn't really need much more explanation that that to get my blood pumping because I'm a simple girl that way and take comfort in visiting familiar surroundings that don't involve drug lords, passports, or airplanes.
Preparing for our first open house this weekend where I figure at the very least Mike and I get to test our latest real estate agent schtick and pretend we know something about the whole housing "market" while trying to convince strangers to buy our house. But really all I'm excited about is offering whoever drops by a cup of fresh coffee and a complementary incense stick. Can't be that hard right? Only issue being, what to wear to sell people homes.... ?
Brainstorming Halloween costumes because this year I'm proving utterly clueless. And if you know us, you know that that's just unacceptable at this point in the season.
Drinking Tea instead of coffee due to a few significant changes in my current diet. (but more on that one later) the slew of suggestions & advice on yesterday's instagram post has me feeling freshly inspired though by this alternative. Thinking I may need to print out the comment section to better examine some of the tasty things people are pairing up and drinking.