New friends and old ones newly met are mirrors as much as input mechanisms. They serve to remind us who we are and where wish we were headed.
A sort of course correction in the journey. And of course we do the same for them. And somewhere in the exchange, we each add a little bit more to our collective portfolio of experience from each side of the equation. Gender rules and social norms be damned, by the way. I need no one’s permission to associate.
For those who might express concern or dismay at my Magdalen ways.
I am raising my children to be worthwhile human beings, but also worthwhile companions. Or so I hope to achieve. Rich input.
Interesting people and places and things. Sights and sounds. Shared jokes and observations. I think I am likely raising the ultimate well rounded hipster nerd queens in waiting.
Such a fucking hipster am I, myself, with my burgundy plaid and velvet slippers, leather jacket and Dr. Who scarf and shredded skinny jeans.
I am writing this on a typewriter app on my iPad right now is how hipster I am.
…And listening to vintage punk and New Wave tracks on Spotify. Mission of Burma and Johnny Thunders and The Nerves, The Waterboys, The Buzzcokcs, etc.
Rich input on a lazy Sunday, good food and old bookstores, family, friends, and songs to be sung until we are breathless and dizzy and full of hope.