I remember when I learned what the word angst meant. Or actually the first time I heard it. It was being used to describe some kind German angst or something... I think it was about the time I ran away from Germany in Europe and had Interpol looking for us. That's another story. (Teaser: I was 17 at the time and visiting my best friend in high school who was studying abroad outside of Hamburg. It was a dare gone awry... in a not so bad way - basically we did it for the adventure and to prove we could actually go through with things (we were pretty noncommittal those days).)
Anyway, besides introducing me to Campari (which was my favorite drink until I was 25), the Germans introduced me to angst. According to dictionary.com, there is good reason I associate angst with Germans.
angst [(ahngkst)]
A kind of fear or anxiety; Angst is German for “fear.” It is usually applied to a deep and essentially philosophical anxiety about the world in general or personal freedom. (See existentialism.)
Ah, yes, my old friend existentialism. Love ya Sartre. Simone de Beauvior. Camus. Depeche Mode. The Cure. Etc. Needless to say I was a very angst teenager. Actually, the angsty part of me has changed very little, matured a bit, doesn't come out as often. Any given day you could come home and find me pondering the nature of reality and depressed at how little the evolution is happening (I did that already on the blog today).
Anyway, the point of this blog post is PIMPING this cool event that LeahPeah is putting on called LA Angst. Actually, it's the second LA Angst.
LA Angst is a monthly reading series hosted by Leah Peterson in the greater Los Angeles area. We gather together to read our most embarrassing, humiliating, angst ridden and otherwise absolutely wonderful writing from our youth. Every month, selected readers comb through their middle school and high school writing and pick something that represents how completely impossible it is to grow up without looking back in shame. Join us for some entertaining, therapeutic and hysterical fun!
Yeah. Maybe I can even wrangle up some angsty teenage heather prose from that running away from Germany trip. Or minimally the first time I was in Brazil. Come along to Tangier - they have great pots du creme and martinis.
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