Eating Better

I lost four pounds in January and February. I simply told myself, "Maybe just one dessert a day." I didn't even always follow that rule, but it helped me not eat, like, a tray of cookies for dinner. So, four pounds.

Since quarantine began I've lost another ten pounds. There's not really a reason? I'm not going to coffee shops every day sitting down with croissants, but I am in my own kitchen cooking up some veggie bacon and plating a couple Rice Krispie Treats or scones or even, this week, leftover tea snacks. I walk every day, but I did before. Maybe what people say about stress linked to your body is accurate and not driving around LA for meetings, squishing my calendar full of networking events, etc. has calmed my system.

There's also something to having money. I was looking at notes from grad school the other day. I found some jottings I'd taken during a panel a Shakespeare. I remember arriving in my fat backpack, my brain exploding out of my own skull because I saw a full spread of appetizers. I quickly parked it at a corner and started wolfing down cheese cubes faster than I could chew them. I wrapped up two black and white cookies in napkins and slipped them in my pocket. Someone brought me a box of donuts and I ate eight in one sitting. Kale worked at Starbucks and would sneak a bag of pastries out to us at comedy rehearsal instead of trashing them (as is company policy).  I'd eat muffins on muffins and pound cake slices and brownies because I never afforded myself the fancy (oof) treats at Starbucks. It felt so important to seize the danish.

My birthday was last week and I had many treats sent to me. I didn't eat a lot of them. I couldn't, and I didn't want to. There's half a cake in the fridge. I almost had some from breakfast today, but then I had a sandwich because that's what I was actually hungry for. Eight years ago, maybe even two years ago, I would have eaten through that whole feast in 48 hours. I feel so much more settled now that I have just a little more financial stability. Honestly, I still don't have a lot! But enough to not fill with panic about eating two slices of free quiche at a community brunch. When you're not scared of having nothing, you have the ability to take what you need.

Celebration Day

The day I turned another year older this year was a great one. I woke up early, no real reason, around 6 AM. The texts streamed in throughout the morning. I ran two miles listening to all my favorite songs. Usually too much of a good thing, but appropriately indulgent Tuesday. I try to do the dishes between sprints and shower. I considered not doing them. Because of the occasion. But then I decided I really didn't mind.

I took a morning bath with my Lush Unicorn Horn bomb. The water was pink and glittery, tons of bubbles. I lit a peony candle and closed my eyes for a while. I made an oat milk coffee and ate a four peanut butter pretzels, answered emailed diligently and poked at one of my writing outlines. Business as usual is much easier with period dings about how I am important for now.

Lo's bag of tea treats arrived, Puhg picked up a cake, donuts from Kale. We donned masks and picked up my favorite salad. I ate it and watched TV. I forget what now. I did my hair and even added a dash of makeup. I had bought a brand new pink dress. In March I bought super fancy front row seats to a play for this day and this outfit was designed to match. We drove a bit outside LA where Yosh & Coors & Lex & JD live. The four of them came out in masks, dropped a tub of rice krispie treats in the driveway, wiped down in front of us. We chatted from far away, unable to see any recognizable face. After twenty minutes back on the road.

At home I looked through my photos and decided what to post on my Instagram while watching a livestream of the cast of WC. AP mentioned me and how I saved her from a snake two years ago. I posted a photo of me wearing a mask near my apartment's closed pool. More than usual it seemed people were around to send me a little attention. Puhg and I walked. I journaled about the year, I logged into my virtual therapy. I looked nice but didn't mention why. I talked about the mysteries I can't solve myself. I wonder if next year I will know more or just be in more peace.

I emerged from the bedroom very hungry and made a fancy cheese plate. I played half an hour of Animal Crossing. My fictional neighbors threw me a surprise party. Puhg was zonked. It's been literal months since we had more than one plan for a day. I opened the gifts that had been stacking in the foyer. We cut the cake, and he promptly fell asleep. I stayed up a bit reading a guy from one of my writing group's pitch materials. I wrote his feedback and sent it in to him just before midnight.

maybe shake a tambourine or when I sing, you sing harmonies

It's my birthday. Twenty songs that defined my year. Last year's here. 

Rumor - Lee Brice

Put Attention on Me - Alana Johnston

She's Kerosene - The Interrupters

I'm a Good Person - CEG soundtrack

If I Had Words - Babe soundtrack

Rebel Girl - Bikini Kill

I Remember You - Skid Row

Big Mouth - The Muffs

Mele Kaliki Maka - Elvis

I Think I'm OKAY - Machine Gun Kelly

The Man - Taylor Swift

Totally F*cked - Spring Awakening soundtrack

Old Town Road - Lil Nas

Despacito - Beibs

Pretty Girl - Maggie Lindeman

A Strange Loop - A Strange Loop soundtrack

First - Cold War Kids

Twin Size Mattress - The Front Bottoms

Ridin' Solo - Jason Derulo

Chap Stick, and Chapped Lips, and Things Like Chemistry - Relient K

Many of these were important driving + radio jams, some of them were significant to the movie I worked on or the set of that movie. I would play the Spring Awakening on my walk from the flat to the theatre every night in Edinburgh. It pushed out all my anger and anxiety and got me in the mood to sing and dance my little buns off. So many good memories of showing my badge, skipping backstage, getting my button-up from the intern who ironed laundry, and kicking on my show shoes. A spritz of refresher post-show. I first heard at least two of these from TikTok. One of these I put on repeat while I wrote my new pilot. Some Hawaii memories. Specifically it's cute that I'll always associate a country song with the island because the uke performer outside our balcony played it every day. The Jason Derulo I inexplicably listen to a lot these days, alone on walks, alone writing, less alone when you call it "solo."

Is Special

What is the hole in the heart where you need to feel special do we all need to feel special or just some of us do I believe I am special and get mad for people not treating me like I am or do I fear I am not and get mad when that is confirmed with actions? When someone is shouting at a waiter or a ticket-taker or a valet for special treatment is it because they think they have earned it or just because they wish for it so badly they think they can muscle it to be so? Is the cloud of special or unspecial like the ghosts in The Conjuring II who are attached to the girls making it moot to move because the spirits will simply tag along? There are some people who just get the special treatment (from home goods department store clerks and teachers and fancy restaurant hosts). Are they truly special? Or do they believe they are in such a golden way it becomes true? A lot of it is looks, a thing I used to wonder and now have simply seen too many times not to be true. Even the children I counseled at summer camp all held doors for the prettiest girl in the room. Or do we all take turns being special? Even for social royalty, they can't always be on a cloud. I read an anonymous post last year from a 40something man who has a table at a farmers' market, says he is mean and short changes the attractive young women out of spite because he's single and they'd never date him. Is it actually all about cynicism of others versus fantasy of others? My therapist says nothing is personal, but it seems that way, doesn't it?

Acid Rain

"Isn't it strange we have to try to be ourselves?" Puhg asked. What a paradox.

Is it because we are nothing but a sum of our actions, and if you believe no day but today, only the potential the actions we are on the cusp of taking? Or, if you're really being particular, only the canoe you're in at this moment?

So it takes tons of start-up energy to get the machine whirring, to ask, "What is it I even am before I act?" And then, whoa, what if you want to change? On one hand, if you're just in this canoe, changing is very very simple and everyone selling self-help books is a fraud because you just dip your paddle and swing another direction. But on the other hand maybe your canoe has been lashed with wild straw, tight and lean, with little ability to change or you only have one map or you aren't on a wide river but a dripping little creak, bottom touching rock.

Last night I dreamt I stole someone's DNA. It was a comedian I admire. He was laying on a hotel bed, and I took a sample of his mucas. It was bright green in the petri dish. Someone else was there, drunk, trying to play a board game. The city was dark and lit in navy glow, there were talks of acid rain. Not the fake (?) 90s kind, like the government was wondering if they should blast us all with a cloud of hallucinogenics once a month to take the edge off things. My platform was maybe have rain rooms, where people could go if they wanted the acid. I kept the green sludge in my pocket. I didn't know what I was going to do with it.

The Teen Theatre Program Caper

In fall 2017 I interviewed to be a program teacher for a small theatre program attached to an arts college.

My MFA focused on theatre for social change and theatre for teens. Then I spent years teaching/workshopping/coaching theatre skills (and coaching teachers how to teach.workshop.coach theatre skills), so pretty much any time I applied for one of these jobs, I didn't have doubts about if I could or should do the job. The theatre industry is, however, flakey, and many times my applications were submitted only to die in a fat stack of emails somewhere. But, sometimes I got an interview, and I was an excellent candidate.

At the end of this lovely autumnal interview, which I had nailed, the lead woman shook my hand and said they'd let me know "either way" next week. Well, a week passed, but I know hiring takes a surprising amount of time. Two weeks passed, three. It was clear I was not getting this job, but I had been promised "either way" so I emailed asking if there was any news, if the hiring was over. I wanted someone to just tell me. No response.

I followed up again two weeks later. No response. I've always wondered. I've always always wondered. I just looked up the email. Thinking about bumping it. One time I hassled someone who owed me money ($75) 14 times over the course of 6 months before I was paid.