Special Lil City

Apologies for bitter me trolling out in that last entry. I was walking from a gig to the train yesterday with another comedian talking about how much non-Chicago friends complain when they visit. I live on the third floor, but I never think about it until I have guest from out of town (huff huff huff). You've gotta leave a half hour of public transit wiggle room. Yes, you have to wait for a table at brunch. Yes, you can go somewhere else. Yes, there will be a wait there too. Buy the tickets in advance. It does smell like pee right here.

I remember it too. My first two? Three? Four months? I was so tired. I realized all my shoes were $10 Forever 21 flats, and I was coming home hobbled and aching. I walk at least two miles a day just getting to and from the train. I was hungrier and there was less affordable food. I didn't realize I was overwhelmed with the people around me all the time. I was a person who acknowledged others on the train and in passing, and it exhausted my senses.

Now it's just life. I more likely to take a hack anyway. I eat more snacks at 7/11, Lyft Line exists, I wear a backpack, a tank top all winter so I don't sweat in foyers. But. All the daily difficulties are still there, and while I rarely think about them, they accumulate and bubble and infrequently burst and maybe I hassle a stranger on social media look, I'm sorry.

So the flip side is that this place is still so special. Last weekend for instance, on Friday I went downtown to meet a friend for fancy tourists-love-it icebox cake and free advanced tickets front row tickets to the hottest play of da year. And Saturday I graded papers before doing two shows at different theatres (in one I played a narcoleptic hedgehog and in the other Tara Lipinski). Sunday I had a meeting for a showcase and a 10 PM. This weekend I saw a dark new play in Edgewater, kicked butt in step class, did a celebration show for a wonderful charity, followed by a 9 PM, and today I will see another new work (dang!) matinee and meet with a writing partner before my 10 PM. Good Chi, grateful Chi.

People I've Fought In My Head This Week

-the student worker who is always on her phone when I entered the English dept office before class stood up and blocked me from my mailbox firmly stating, "students are not allowed back here"
-the woman who opened the office door between the hall and bathroom who said "you should have gone around" "around where" I asked "to the other side" "this huge sign says BATHROOMS THIS WAY" I said "well this door was locked" she said
-my coworker at the Writing Center who makes 50% more hourly than I do because the school enacted a pay cut right before I was hired who said when I walked in the office yesterday at 2:06 PM, "you're late"
-guy at dept. meeting who reiterated a smart suggestion a woman made back to her, acting like he was giving her advice on her own suggestion, for a solid two minutes
-every elected official who takes financial support from the NRA
-myself for not doing enough about gun violence
-other people for not even feeling guilty about not doing enough about gun violence
-the gd founding fathers
-anyone taking phone calls on the train
-anyone listening to audible music in the elevator
-the theatre company that had me write a third of a new musical over Christmas who didn't even bother to send a rejection letter until I asked
-the guy who grunts during HIIT
-my teammate who toed the line of explosive accusation and backpedalled to angst
-excessively talkative salon owner who didn't let me peacefully enjoy retail therapy
-CTA helpline person who refused to give me the office number to check if my favorite pair of gloves were indeed left there
-the whole educational institution that pumps us with spam and vital information via email one and the same
-the comedy theatre that informed me my class was cancelled only after I took off work and was standing in the foyer
-a nice aquaintance who threw in an Obama jab over tea
-my favorite student who acted like I was insane for upholding my late work policy
-waitress who teenily rolled her eyes because I didn't order wine

Honestly, when you think of how many fights I avoided, it's a modern miracle the most ridiculous thing I did this week was comment on a friend's cousin's tweet about wanting a huge engagement rock, "Diamonds are murder."

Worked on My Book for the First Time Since October

As long as you write something everyday. I agree and I disagree. I don't count journaling. I don't count blogging. Outlining. But then I start to not count just a page or two.

It seems like there should be priorities with projects, but you can't make yourself make yourself. I have tried. I have failed. My main fear is that in my patience, someone else will write it. I remember a girl on the volleyball team in college saying she never misses a practice because somewhere out there her opponent is practicing. And I still think about that. But then I try to remind myself we don't have opponents. Not like that. That's what neutral me believes, at least, until I see a movie trailer and think, "That's...a lot like my XYZ." But as a lover of things that I love, I would go to all movies about things I love, right? Several people watched this quirky Netflix film and texted me about it. "It's so you," a thing no artist hopes to hear. I avoided it until I was home alone with lots of snacks and no more papers to grade. I sucked in a huge basket of air and pressed play. It wasn't me at all. Or, rather, I would never have made it. I have rarely known such relief.

It's not about what I want to do. It's really not. It's about what I can do. Okay and a little about proving something. (To be honest.) But what I want has never been what's going on. It seems so beautiful and fortunate that I have rarely wanted. What an enormous gift.

Anyway, I finished another chapter of my book just now. Chapter 8 out of 12, to be exact.

First Sunday February

I made a big fuss about no alarm clocks, but I rose at seven. I did the good morning writes and sits and reads on the couch. In HIIT I did the most burpees in the class. I did box jumps like a true beast fueled by the previous night's gig in Indiana and the oatmeal creme pie I ate on the way home. I was so spent I couldn't imagine eating yet. I texted Puhg and we walked through the snow to the grocery store. Everyone was buying chips and dips. We passed a pop-up brunch at our favorite veg cafe. Cruelty-free chicken & waffles. I don't remember what we talked about. I responded to a promising email. I organized my sweaters and laid down. Lesson plans over two eps of Big Love. A little watching the guy play Until Dawn. My bus didn't come, so I met my girl on the train platform. We were both late for our own meeting. I saw three other comedians standing at the Red Line. Sometimes Chicago is the smallest. The bar we walked to was closed, so we sat in the balcony of Whole Foods with serious faces and then outlining our new project. Oh, it's good. I can tell. I walked across the street to i_. My Harold team goes on every week, but there's a jubilance when we arrive to the same green room. I cherish the night and play an overbearing marketer. Our coach says, "I'm glad you worked through the Winnebago scene" and if that's not priceless improv garbage, what is? I couldn't interact any more, so I sat next to two people riding home, not speaking. The bus would take five minutes. I was cooked. I stood looking out for it. It arrived, empty save a man sleeping on it with a six pack next to his head. The driver got up and shook him. The man took his sweet time debarking. It was fine. There but for the grace of God. I forgot my keys and had to call up. I wasn't just ready for bed. Reddit posts until the blanket of tired tucked around me.