When I saw the title of today's blog, Lessons from the Kissing Booth, I was filled with anticipation. I mean kissing usually leads to sex, and who doesn't want to read about sex? Alas, the title was a big tease as there was little kissing to be found and I was left scratching my head wondering how the blog title was at all relevant to the content of the blog. Considering Samantha was an English major maybe it's a reference to some great work of literature or something completely symbolic that's gone right over my simple little head.There were 6 years worth of posts to peruse so I could only read a sampling of them. At first I found the blog to be a bit tedious, but after a while I began to appreciate that Samantha is a skilled writer. I found myself melting into her blog, hypnotized by her pretty, pretty words and lulled by the musical quality of her work. Though quite beautiful, her writing has an aloof quality that has the tendency to distance the reader. I get the sense that, at times, she is more interested in flexing her verbal muscles than in sharing a part of herself with us. There are moments when I feel she is being purposely vague about something important, while still managing to artfully capture minor details of an experience. I find it frustrating. Sometimes people are too poetic for their own good. I did find a few posts that elaborated on some rather personal and painful history, so there may be a reason why she tends to skirt around some significant details of her experiences. Not everything can be faced head on.
Samantha is a well-rounded, well-read, well-educated and well-traveled single woman. From what I can tell she has dealt with a lot of tragedy in her 26 years. Despite all that she has endured, she still seems to be enamored with life and all it’s small miracles, beauties and possibilities. It’s an outlook I admire. I wish I could see the world through her lens, in such sharp and illuminated detail. I kind of love her, actually. How could you not?
So. Hello there. I'm samantha. I like dirty jokes and cursing like a sailor, red shoes and argyle, potato chips, puppies, beer, and the word "pulchritudinous." I like to spend weekday evenings in bars or at home with my tambourie and the Northwest's finest indie pop. I do not like people who cheat, telephones, doing the dishes, lettuce, or the look I get when the bartender doesn't think I'm old enough to be in there. My doctor has confirmed that I am finally 5'1" tall. I weigh less than three numbers but no you cannot lift me up to see.I suggest that Samantha use the preceding paragraph as her "About Me" because it is far superior to what is currently there. In fact, when I read the About Me, saw the butterfly header image and the dismal grey background, I wasn't too excited about reading the blog. Which is a shame because it really should be read. The one complaint I do have is that her archived posts are not titled. She does, however, apply titles to her posts in the “Sometimes Worth Remembering” and “Traveling” sections. The lack of titles in her archives made it impossible for me to link to some of them here.
I like daisies, most of all. Daisies and hugs that last just a little too long.
I don’t think “Lessons from the Kissing Booth” is a blog for everyone. If you want funny, down to earth posts then this blog is not for you. But if you want artfully crafted introspection, give Samantha a read. I have bestowed upon her:
I agree that Samantha writes well, but the content is a big meh to me. There's just nothing interesting enough to make me want to dig deeper. Of course, I have the attention span of a gnat so I did appreciate her brevity.
ReplyDeleteHi, my name is Ghost, and I'm an English Major. Gimme a drink and a rimjob.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I need to get back to writing.
ReplyDeleteHaha, I was an English major as well. I was making fun of the stereotype.
ReplyDeleteAnd I don't wanna give you an rimjob. You probably have dingleberries. ;)
Indeed, chamuca, I understood your quip. No dingleberries here.
ReplyDeleteOk, good. I knew us English majors were smarter than that.
ReplyDeleteAnd smarter than the fucktarded general population.
As proven by my skillfully crafted and grammatically correct comments.
If we were really that much smarter, we would have chosen a major that pays better in the real world.
ReplyDeleteTrue, which is why I end up having to wait tables.
ReplyDeleteOh wait, I can't even get a job doing that.
As a former English Major, I take exception to your statement, La Chamuca. Not that we're pretentious, but to the construction that you chose. "Pretentious as fuck" means precisely nothing, as the phrase "as fuck" is imprecise, profane, and not likely to make much sense forty years down the line. In fact, I can already feel the necessity for a footnote next to your comment, explaining to semiliterate audiences in the next half-century that "as fuck" was slang in our generation for "in the extreme."
ReplyDeleteNow excuse me while I turn my attention back to my latte, my beret, and the great American novel I have been writing since 1989.
Good God, if people are reading my shit in 40 years, to the extent it has to be footnoted like the ol' Norton Anthology, I'm in serious trouble here, people.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, if you're really an English major, you'd be drinking your coffee black. Latte's are for yuppie wannabes. Did you get it at Starbucks?
Also by the way, I was 8 years old in 1989. All I was writing about back then was how I wanted NKOTB to come to my birthday party. ;)
These comments made me laugh so much that I dropped ash from my clove cigarette all over the slim volume of poetry I pretend to read in independent bars.
ReplyDeleteYep, I was one too.
Chamuca --
ReplyDeleteYou are but a babe in the woods. NKOTB? For real? It took me three reads to even decipher what the hell NKOTB was.
And for the record, they did not have Starbucks when I was in college (1985 - 1989). I did drink my coffee black. Without sugar. As large as possible. And I ridiculed those around me who wanted melted coffee ice cream, which was what I called coffee with cream and sugar.
I was actually referring to the entire class of wannabe-serious-writers with their laptops at Starbucks who are obviously there because they want to be seen "writing" rather than actually writing anything.
The only coffee drinking beret wearing people I've ever trusted were those who were spiking the coffee with some type of hard booze and wearing the beret to cover a self-inflicted bald spot.
ReplyDeleteYikes. I was an English major and now I'm a journalist, but I don't even drink coffee, seldom smoke, I drink Natty Ice and any poetry I write has to rhyme.
ReplyDeleteI do enjoy a nice rimjob though.
Why do these comments make me wish I'd been an English major?
ReplyDeleteI'm sick.....in that case, maybe it's good I went into Nursing.
I was an English major. :shrug: I lost my beret after college, though.
ReplyDeleteHeh. I'm an engineer. I know you English/liberal arts major exist but I'm too scared to venture out of my basement to verify. Sunlight sucks.
ReplyDeletePosol'stvo - There's this newfangled website called Google. If you type NKOTB into the search bar, the first thing that pops up is New Kids on the Block.
ReplyDeleteRassles - My major was English (the language) Literature, not British Literature. I don't know about the other fools on here though.
My Pretentious English Major confession for the day: I have books on my shelf which I have never read. I only have them because they are titles I think I should own, solely because "I majored in English."
I still have all of my literature textbooks. The plan is to read through them all. It's been 21 years. My plan is an epic fail.
ReplyDeleteAfter years of avoiding it, I finally read some Jean Paul-Satre I bought trying to look intelligent.
ReplyDeleteI was surprised.
It really wasn't as profound as 'common knowledge' would have you think....
You know what...this was a good review and I too found her subtle and inviting. Not every blog has to be in-your-face...
ReplyDelete