favorites

Trash by Taylor: August favorites

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(hey, hi, it’s me. i know it’s been a long time, but i’ve just been trying to live life, y’know?)

August was a weird month. It was one of those months where you find yourself as a character in a coming-of-age film, but John Hughes didn’t write your film, so there is a whole lot more flailing than falling in love with Jake Ryan, or something. My graduation from college became official with the very unexpected arrival of my diploma on my doorstep, when I was anticipating a cassette tape rack. I went to the beach and got to eat a Whataburger, and I got caught up on the different documentaries about Princess Diana, while the ocean roared in the background.

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the tube

prom sch-mom

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(there’s spoilers after the “Read More” tag!)

I have a pretty fierce relationship with television. I was always happiest as a young girl when I was plopped in front of the television; my strongest ¬†early childhood memories are of commercials and cartoons. When I grew up a bit, I realized I was trying to finding meaning and answers within the world and TV was a pretty big help with trying to understand myself and everything around me. I think I can get “professional TV nerd” printed on any future business cards.

Last night I was watching¬†Beverly Hills 90210, a past time I try to hide from my loved ones. My last roommate would leave the room whenever I sat down to indulge in some high school soap. I realized I shouldn’t hide my love for the classic show, because I could identify myself within the characters, and I think that is justification for enjoying some cheese. Anyway, my cosmic kinship with the show began with the penultimate episode of the first season, “Spring Dance”, where the spring dance (of course) is the biggest event of the year, and each character starts to slowly lose themselves in its hair-sprayed mayhem.

In high school, I was definitely no Kelly Taylor and I only looked like Brenda Walsh. I had a bunch of guy friends, but no boyfriend, and this really plagued me during dance season. I rolled my eyes at the “spring flings” in my first two years because they were child’s play compared to the junior and senior proms to come. When my senior prom came around, I was totally and completely an Andrea, heartbroken by my main man’s interest in the most beautiful elite of the school, and staying home on prom night to find solace in the campy horror films I was so sure defined my situation.

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