I Wish I Was Her

2022 was one of my favorite years of life. And then it kicked me in my teeth on its way out the door. Highs so enduring I forgot they were highs. Walking on clouds became status quo--until the plummet. I try very hard to remember things are what they are, not how they end.

Another year of habits. Workout every day, journal, read, meditate once a week, Scrapbook Sundays, no writing weekends, log everything, fill my checkered notebook with to-dos and to-do them.

I dislike how undone these twelve months feel. So much happened, but to what end is TBA. Which is why you're supposed to enjoy the journey and not the destination, but sorry, no matter how comfy the seats in first class, there are certain places you'd prefer not to land. There are certain trips I would never buy tickets for had I known there'd be an emergency landing in Boise, you know?

I worked with two of my all-time artistic idols this year. I was challenged creatively, I made them laugh, I sat in rooms torn between "pinch me" and "why me." I pitched and sold, twice. I wrote a new sample, revised a screenplay a dozen times, produced a live reading of it. I wrote another screenplay. I sold a short. I developed. An actress I admire "responded to the work" and we met. I wrote a new play, had a beautiful workshop of it. I consulted. I wrote for a fancy benefit of stars, attended a premiere of even more sparkles. I was pulled into the corner private booth of the Sunset Tower Hotel, surrounded by three powerful women I'd only ever seen on screens. People let me down, but maybe it wasn't their job to hold me up. I wrote five B____ series, still an accomplishment, but overshadowed by my vicious drive to Do More. I spent this past week writing a new outline for the first feature I'll write in 2023.

Hm, a few music improv shows. None very good, actually. But I did them all the same. A podcast recording. Parties, mixers, coffees.

There was, in reverse order, Mexico Christmas, post-Thanksgiving Scottsdale, a sister visit, a Santa Monica getaway, the hottest funnest week ever in service to a reunion concert and soy milkshakes, bucket list roller coasters with my mom, Wisconsin pontooning with my dad and aunt, Tahiti (!), the windiest wildest Palm Desert range, a celebration meeting of the Alice minds in a large tiled rental, San Diego family seaside excursion, Chicago for Dal's wedding, long-planned Disneyland, cool Arizona winter weekend, a Valentine cabin.

There were patterns. Like, what is my body doing when my mind doesn't know what's next? Or pretending it's not a big deal until it's not. There's no shortcut to putting in the time. There were unlearned lessons. About mind reading and getting older.

There were a million magic moments with beloved Cap. And then a thousand terrible moments I still can't shake. I walk around the sunny neighborhood in a raincloud. My coach at gymnastics encourages me I'm so close to the handspring even though what he really means is, "I can tell you've been crying in this Tumbling for Adults Class." The morning after she died, Puhg and I went for breakfast at the cafe with orange wallpaper. "Time to pretend," he sighed, stereotypical east side book in hand, as we walked in.

I saw some amazing theatre for the first time in years. At least a dozen productions, finally, in this tinsel town. Search for Intelligent Life and 2:22 and Man of God, the stand-outs. I liked several books--Evelyn Hugo and The Brittanys for certain--some TV, mainly Players and Yellowjackets, and sure, movies too. I can't think of what meant something to me right now. I had a low tolerance for things written by men this year, which can be a challenge. But I definitely know I loved going to the movies this year. I adore the Burbank escalators and the hummus shop around the corner and the butter machine and the Freestyle Coke and discussing with Puhg on the breezy ride home. My favorite albums were Beach Bunny and Taylor Swift. I got into a stupid little cooking game on my phone, and I really did enjoy dressing cartoon salads.

I lost a friend, I made a friend, I reconnected with all the best and took note of who wasn't there. Most of the brightest moments are never what you think. Laughing on the patio as the moon looks over me and Puhg, that day Cap ate her first blueberry, the Gatekeeper with my mom before park close, chatting with my dad while I looked at the sun setting on palm trees, my sister prancing around an art supply shop, our wooden bungalow, playing Mafia in a pool, all the Cornish Pasties and all the people I ate them with. So many sunsets in so many places. I cherished each one.

I tried my best. If there's anything you could say about me, it's that I always always tried my best.