Long Summer Day 2021

It always surprises me when days start getting longer in January, February. Such a wind-up for summer so far away. The evenings my stomach grumbles and I think it can't be right because it's still light out, only to find it's suddenly 7.

The summer solstice is special to me. I remember a night hike when I was 17, thinking about how every day can be so full. For the most part I take every drop to extreme heart. But especially on the namesake.

Yesterday morning I woke up anxious and sad, as has been a recent trend. It's like I had one to three worries for a year and a half and now I have dozens. It's too many and worse there are too many options for solution. I'm out of practice making choices.

Nevertheless I journaled, I penned a little something, I read this novel with the blue cover. I texted my dad for the holiday. I decided on a 20 minute Peleton cardio--the toughest kind of exercise I do. Maybe that'd amp me up. There was also cookie dough tea. Showered to Aqua and got dressed in a crop top and laid in bed for a while all clean in the sheets. I planned to avoid social media this weekend and for some reason went on in the late morning, regrettable. Had my veggie bacon and coffee on the nightstand, decided to keep the desk closed this once. Upkept my artist journal and my organizational notebook and my planner and my spreadsheet of progresses. It's a lot of on top of it I do every Sunday, but it somehow feels empty and the urge to produce something was great. Trying to honor my day off, I meditated instead. On the ground with the square pillow and seashell towel. I thought about the pool but decided no, and was happy I'd swum yesterday instead. The Suns won.

At 3ish began getting ready for an engagement party at the park. Puhg and I arrived near 4, eerie and bright merry-go-round music welcoming us. Heaps of families having picnics and a cotton candy man I eyed. We wished our friend congrats and heard his stories. Two others showed up and we chatted and laughed and pet their dogs. We played a lawn game and I kept breaking the pieces. This is fun, I clearly thought. Then what a treat so missed and rarely possible--it was getting later, so we said, "we might go get dinner, wanna join?" And they did and we went to the same diner Puhg and I had coincidentally gone yesterday. It was so cool in the patio shade and I was so aware of the yellow shine on the mural across the street. Lower and lower.

The hippy sandwich was a delight. The sun slipped below the post office wall. I checked the time, set in just a few minutes. We all discussed the summer camps we'd been to. Stood up and walked out onto the sidewalk corner, took a photo, back to the car, inside toward home. Ophelia by the Lumineers was on the radio as the glow faded. Fed the hamster seeds, searched for a movie, found a strange creepy one, started it, but felt dizzy. Had four Thin Mints who had been frozen for months, put in a sound bath headphone, fell asleep at 10 o'clock.

And it will suddenly be so dark. Some day in November. Clocking out of work before the brightness even had her chance. And it will feel long, like how does one fill all the midnight space. But we will only have to wait until December for the magic to reverse.

Doin' Good

Back on track with my New Year's res. Took a break for vacation, which makes no sense, my res keeps me happy, and the place I should be happiest (vacaying) I neglected practice.

High-powered Step class even though it's been a minute. It's humiliating to mess up so many times but it makes a person strong, you know.

Minor set-back getting an extremely sugary coffee.

Then there were auditions at one of my theatres. Got an email that they were low on auditiors. No pay and around three hours of work, but I wondered if there were any women sitting in and I wouldn't know unless I was there sitting in, so I sat in. Guess what? No women but me. And I made sure to smile at each auditioning one as they took the stage. And when another auditor didn't like a girl for no particular reason I said, "Let's take her." You would do it too, but only if you were there, which is the main whole thing.

At home I set up a tiny office in bed to phone bank for the Congressional democratic candidate in my district. I made 50 calls, which I did not like at all, but I got a few more voters, and this is my duty as a person and my mess as a citizen in a country that does not value research.

A friend wanted to talk on the phone (despise) but I did it.

Could have watched something stupid over dinner, but dove into a true crime doc. Gotta learn about justice systems to get mad enough to change them.

Worked on my book. I have two goals for this week.

Took the train instead of a Lyft. Save any tank of gas we can.

Tried to make the new player feel welcome enough. Improvised a musical as a poached goat. Paraphrased MLK Jr., a finale that was a metaphor for bipartisanism, tossed out the compliments. (They're free.) Tried to make people feel good.

And then I could have gone to sleep but watched Kimmy S over leftover birthday cake. I did my best.

2017

Produced & performed my solo show.
Disney World with Alice Sr.
Two protests.
LA: peeking, dates with Puhg, goofing with A Jar, friends & beaches.
Got rejected big time from four auditions.
Got accepted from two.
Made a new real friend.
Started my first book (3/4 done as of today).
Visited my dad & survived a tornado.
Taught third graders to improvise all spring.
A teen improv workshop for underserved girls.
Published three times.
Saw Andrew McMahon & Arcade Fire in concert.
Graduated i_.
Cast on my first Harold team.
Coached two indie teams.
Directed three sketch shows.
Visited my alma matter for spring break.
The Goodman six times.
Steppenwolf twice.
Two women's coven retreats.
Climbed Machu Picchu, explored the Amazon, best ceviche ever.
Wrote & starred in a kids comedy show at SC.
Hosted five friends on the couch.
Dallas Improv Festival: godmommin', pie, Dizz's pool, a great set.
Taught musical theatre & song parody at two summer camps.
Cried on Fourth of July.
Screamed Moana around the apartment.
Submitted three writing packets.
Made it to the final round of one for Comedy Central.
Re-learned Hiragana & Katakana.
Almost a month of improv in Maine.
The total eclipse.
Taught two sections of Theatre History & four of English.
Revised my pilot into something I'm proud of.
Took a meeting.
My first comedy class at The A.
My first playwriting class since grad school.
Workshop reading at GH.
Threw a small but intellectually stimulating film viewing.
New tattoo.
First commissioned play.
Tutored 300 hours.
156 improv shows.
After three years, found my neighborhood coffee shop.
Told my co-worker casually I am living my dream. She laughed, and I said, "No actually I am. This is the dream I had and I am doing it. Like, everyday."

The Octopus Eats Its Own Leg

Thursday at the End of Days

I take off for a big adventure in two short weeks. There is so much to do before then and now. I see the endless appointments and dinner dates roll on for miles of my paper planner. I have a real makeshift artist schedule these days. It's not my favorite way to live, but it beats a lot of ways to live.

Typical Thursday began yesterday with a 7 AM alarm. I rowed, ran, and stretched at the gym and hustled back home to shower in under one song. I sprinted to the bus. The driver couldn't help but stop in the middle of the street for me. I was flailing. I read the news on the short train ride north to meet a fellow teaching artist. We drove to a high school at the edge of the city. We couldn't find the main entrance and snuck in a side. It was a passing period. We were half an hour early. We wanted around getting backpack checked looking for the library.

We discussed local theatre politics and ate from the tubs of tiny Trader Joe's cookies I brought for the meeting. The two drama teachers arrived. We discussed the residency about to take place and felt a shallow kinship of People Who Care About Teenagers Learning Monologues. We took a tour of the auditorium (with a balcony!). This is the school the play Grease was based on. We were spit out into the winter sun and rambled home.

On the couch I answered work emails and ate a spinach bowl. Bisque edited spreadsheets and Portlandia played. Later SNL. I felt restless and walked to the library where for no reason my late fine from the book about tennis I kept a week too long was waved. I sat on the second floor in a study carrel and felt very much like it was my first year of grad school again. I updated files and wrote documents for my soon to be non-job. I took twenty minutes to brainstorm a new sketch idea I had. A woman barked fifteen minutes until close, and I scampered home in the dark.

My mom called me from her train. We discussed the weekend. I combed my hair. Bisque and I walked around the corner to the vegan place we've never tried. It was small and smokey, but played Bright Eyes over a loud speaker. My aunt and uncle met us, and we ordered too much delicious cheese-less pizza. I took home a big cardboard box.

KK invited me and Nep to her studio in Old Town for face masks and gossip. I took a six dollar Lyft and we squealed and gabbed in the kitchen. My mom texted she was on a bus headed back to my place, so Nep and I split a cab back north. I jumped out at the bus stop at midnight and waited for a lady who I knew would be carrying too many bags to emerge from transit. We chatted and tottered down Belmont. Made it up the three flights. I put on gym shorts. I cozied into bed. I checked Instagram. I fell asleep.

Kierkegaard Days

"Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced."

Hill on her birthday. One year ago today.

Don't Be Like That

Saturday night I saw one of my improv teacher's sketch shows. It was a revue, and it was alright. Sketch is hit or miss--it's always valuable to see as a writer. It was a pretty talented group. My teacher has been performing and improvising in Chicago for over a decade with lots of creds at all the main comedy venues. Her castmates were the same. One guy I've seen perform a a few times around town. He's good, but he was more than lackluster Saturday.

"Don't be like that," I silently thought from my tiny cabaret seat. "This is a small room of people, but don't you see? You can really make them happy right now. You can really create an environment for them to learn and grow. Don't be like that." But he was like that--a little slow, a little tired, phoning it in just a little bit.

And it's easy for me to say sitting comfortably with no lights on my face. It's easy for me to say. I know that. I know that because I had food poisoning in class the other day, and I dreaded being onstage. I was like that, no matter how much my teacher might have been quietly thinking, "Don't be."

"Night Hawks" at The Art Institute

And I passed a woman in a wheelchair on the corner of Sedgewick and North last night, and I shuffled along in my flip flops, slumped over, and she might have been thinking, "Don' be like that." And I didn't go out to the bars with my classmates after the show Saturday, and the nearby high schooler was overhearing the conversation thinking, "Don't." And the ghosts hover over us when we sit staring into space on the bus ride home, and they wish they could feel a striped seat beneath them, and really see the blackblue of the Chicago river at night.

One Day at Camp

At 5:40 I'm running with holy sneakers and no headphones. There are rolling grassy fields, and a treeline covering the lake, which I can't see, but I can always hear. By 6:30 I'm sitting on the tennis courts with twenty other young women quietly praying. At 7 AM we're all hustling down the beach steps, cheering children huddling in their suits. We dive into the freezing water, and in the showers Kath and I belt "Crazy"--the Britney echoes across the high school girls' quad. We raise the flag, I eat my oatmeal and peanut butter. I arrange the activities, while little girls zip around sweeping their cabin floors and folding their sheets, I organize Excel spreadsheets. I ring the bell. I talk to the 9th graders about setting goals that mean something. Sometimes they stare at an ant marching by, sometimes they look up and nod and write with urgency in their notebooks. The bell rings, and I sit on the head counselor cabin with my laptop. I read and edit report after report. These are parent lifelines. It's hard to care about each one, harder when the warmth hits my face and my eyes bag, puff, and shut for a little too long. "I'm dragging," I announce, so Kath shoots up from her desk and announces herself, "We should probably hula hoop." We do. I'm back on track. We ring the bell. We see the kids come and go, they pass, they laugh, they've been out in the world, and we've been reading about them. I spend another hour and a half editing. I hoof up to the dining hall. I read lunch table assignments. I walk to the counter to fill my plate with the vegetarian casserole. I read more dang reports. During Rest Hour I read more Viola Spolin and fall alseep until the DANG BELL RINGS AGAIN. Sigh. The bell. I put reports on a flashdrive. I head to the office. I get the mail. I sort it. I make the last twenty minutes of Beach Period--just in time for two games of Mafia. It's my night off, and I have a date with Dunt and Kath. We hit the town. The fancy grill on main street--there are fresh greens and braided bread and coconut curry. Let's not forget the desserts. We don't speak of kids or work, and it feels like we're adults (as we are)--speaking on war and relationships instead of bubbles and yo-yos. We look in shops. I watch a sunset. I'm writing this in Kath's cottage. I have the internet, there's a movie playing. I'm in actual civilization for once. I have nothing pressing to do before bed, no one calling my name. Oh, what good I believe camp can do. Oh, how I know I am blessed to bless. Oh, how I am blessed myself. But, oh, how I want to plan my own days again and how I want to sleep when it's time and how I want to be in a bed without sand.

Errands

Yesterday was Errands Day with Pookie. We left at 8 AM and I got back to school at near 7 PM. Woofland. It was successful, but a day of successful errands always feels like a failure. You come back beat, tired, and poor. But, if I make a list of what I did yesterday, I will feel less stressed about what I have to do in the next hour before I leave for my acting competition.

-Mac Store. Bernie was sent away for another repair.
-Shoes. Needed black kicks for the trip. Got bonus sale sandals and a new pair of tennis shoes (sans holes).
-Coffee. With a friend of Pookie's.
-Target. Leggings for da cold, tampons, and toothpaste. Awesome.
-Whole Foods. Sushi break.
-Galleria. New Sweater for my competition.
-PetSmart. Food for Blanchie.

There were many more stops, but they were for Pookie, so I just waited patiently. Her bank, her gym, the Cupcakery, etc.

Finally! I was back at school with my phone ringing off the hook. I was totally unproductive:
-played piano with KHO
-talked with Muff
-had Bradley and The Sitch run into my room topless blasting dance music and grinding on me (I screamed)
-watched (and danced) as Kay DJed a dance party in the science building atrium
-wrote half my newspaper article (that was due Friday) and passed out