Weekend, July 10 & 17

Worked well into the evening Friday, bad vibes, so went on a run. Golden sun, such glorious California trees. Jumped in the pool when it was said and done. Texted friends from the steps as the light fled and I became cold in my suit. Night laundry--surprisingly busy. Watched half a 2000s teen movie over chips and fancy ice cream (delivered).

Saturday tried something new--a gymnastics class. More casual than I could have guessed. Flopping over mats. Sweat more than usual for noon--a good time to get back in the pool. This time Puhg joined. I did handstands, this time without a spotter. Watched cartoons to prep for a meeting, salsa on the couch, and then friends in Aloha shirts arrived. We chatted too long to play Clue. Brought the hamster out onto the bed.

Like true 30somethings we tried a sports bar Sunday night. Dressed in purple, game so early I got two giant soft pretzels with mustard for the happy hour price. Early enough, home for a movie.

Or Friday ended earlier than expected because I didn't feel well. Add arrows to the to-do items in the calendar. That's next week's problem now. Tried it all--laid in bed and ice packs and a hot uphill walk. Rented a Bad Times at the El Royale because it was so stuck in my craw to see it. I didn't like it, but now I don't have to wonder. A party I hemmed over, but finally decided to go and ended up driving the birthday girl. Loads of old faces from the old city arriving. It was almost like the i_, so open with tall ceilings and everybody a little goofy. Ah, not LA in LA. (But there were vegan nachos.)

Second week of tumbling. Knew what to expect, but still learning. "You have the physical ability, but you're too nervous," that's my thing, I thought. This time the hot pool jump was pre-meditated. Lo joined. We bobbed for an hour, she's been on dates this week. Too quickly it was time to head to friends' for the basketball game. A huge spread and many folks I wanted to hear so much from, but priorities.

This morning I finished my book about demon possession and suddenly considered brunch. Puhg and I were told it'd be 45 minutes, which we don't usually do, but it felt so normal we decided on it--even though I didn't get the french toast I wanted, I liked being at a spot with kitchy wallpaper and tiles and no distractions and a rose water latte. I've meditated and made my schedule for the week. I brainstormed my newest idea. After I post this I will do one online personal development class and then organized some papers I've ignored. Then I will pat myself on the back with a horror movie and snacks. Popcorn, I think.

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.

Meeting Women

Went to Squid's birthday a couple weeks ago. I sent a selfie of myself to Puhg while I was in the car burbs-bound to the lady of honor's favorite tiki bar. He wrote back, "Who's there?" And I told him it was a few girls I knew OF, but no friends. He said he would not put himself in that situation. I guess logically on paper, who would? I was stranding myself an hour outside the city, sitting at an intimate table with three gals I could hate for all. But it didn't even cross my mind because I like and trust Squid, so I assumed the best of her people. Plus, when do I not enjoy meeting a stranger woman? It's so rare that I really had to think hard about it just now. Really, what woman don't I have something in common with? Can I not learn from? Will not answer an intriguing question? In fact, a girl I had never met gave me a ride home and we bonded so rapidly that I got her husband a job on a movie Puhg is producing. Behind every good man.

Scumbags, Sweethearts

I did comedy with a bunch of scumbags in Arizona. Some were scumbags in the best of ways: dirty but kind little ragamuffins. They'd attend a cupcake party I threw, but they'd get super stoned first. Some were scumbags in the worst of ways. They'd drunkenly brag about how great their stand-up was, show up hungover for tournament shows, classically steal ideas. I hate these aspects of a thing I loved so dearly, but there's something rich about remembering it. A lawyer once told me all JDs leap at the chance to talk about how difficult passing the bar is.

Point: lots of scum, but also, a couple sweeties. One of these sweeties felt like my little brother. He was so genuine and had an adorable appreciation for almost all humans. Once at a party we were having a 1 AM intimate conversation. Not spilling all, but just sort of swapping little bits. He said, "You know what's kind of an interesting thing about me? I am kind of into bigger girls." I was like, "Oh. Okay." And then he said, "Yeah, not like huge, but like...like--" And then he named a girl on the sketch comedy team who had this amazing black curly hair and was hourglass curve with a tummy. My guess--a size 16.

I felt the sudden lurch of "I'd like to go home" but I couldn't put my finger on why. Now I know it's because he considered appreciating a normal body a fun-fact. Or maybe because he categorized women into bins of not big and big. Or maybe because all men/ all people do that but I don't like to be reminded. Or maybe because he named an object in the bin to me, like I was an accomplice. It was too late and the music was too loud to for me to do anything other than blink. He waited for a response. "Well?!" He shoved my shoulder, "Aren't you proud of me?"

I am lucky enough to mostly spend time with feminists. I work in liberal spaces, I write in liberal spaces. But even so, little prickles of dissent poke in, and I want to smack the world upside the head and explain how hard it is to be a woman, when it is a good man's medal of honor to not be disgusted by our average selves.

Decade of Fall Memories

Walking home from The Goodman with my cowboy boots on. A blast of chilled wind ruffles my braid. I see corners I've seen for two years and wonder how they will look in ten.

The sun shined for Stripes' visit. We walked Maggie Daley holding hot eggnog lattes begging the universe for anything beyond the squat we got. "I would let out a cheer to even be formally rejected," she yelped at the green lions.

Pulled up my Halloween socks and wore fuzzy leggings to Dusty's musical improv show. I couldn't afford the non-student price, but I forgot my ID. My face got hot, and the ticket girl let me go in anyway. On the way home I picked up a pint of trick-oreo-treat flavor of the month from Baskin. Puhg and I ate it in bed while watching Erin Brockovich until 2 in the morning.

I had this grand plan to do a specifically creepy thing every day of October. The 1st, although it was probably 80 degrees, meant a box of Entemann's pumpkin donuts. I ate them in my yellow room before I had to hop on my scooter and work at the testing center.

The year of partymania was old hat. Now it was time for me to spend Friday with a green face mask on reading.

The car radio told me it was a wild weekend ahead--what with the holiday on Sunday. Bars and dress up for three nights straight. I was driving because I had to do my monthly stock pile of Target groceries. The traffic was terrible because of a football game. The carton of napoleon I had in the bag next to me was melting even with the AC on.

Before smartphones we were very lost. East St. Louis actually. It was meant to be a fun girl's night, but we couldn't get home. The light was sucked from corners. So dark, so dark. We were on our way to a haunted house, but we missed it. A cleanup crew met us at the door. It was okay.

My bio lab partner shuffled his little boots a bit after class. There was a nip in the air. He never had much to say but a lot of sass about saying the simple things (HI!!! WE HAVE A TEST!!!) "I have some chocolate in my room?" I tried. "OH I WOULD LOVE CHOCOLATE." We walked back to my dorm and I showed him the Fannie Mays. "HMM," he pondered loudly. He took one small piece and was on the edge of telling me something. But it was too quiet and too chilly.

It happened finally--my polka dot skirt was splayed around my chunky legs as I walked down the street in Kyoto for the final time. The maple leaf cookies were on sale, so I bought some to eat on the train. I think I whispered to what I'm not sure.

Two guys were in the hallway. I thought they were my friends, but they stopped inviting me places. Everything was dying, but I knew it would all become green again soon.

Golden Age

It's so weird. It's like one day I went to bed when anything was possible and when I woke up the mystery of parties had dissipated. En route to New Year's Eve party with Bisque I realized I knew just what to expect. You know what I mean? In high school who will hook up? Who will buy the cigarettes? Who will smoke them? Even two years ago--will cops come? Coke? What to wear, what to wear.

Classy.

It's a relief. We finished our romantic dinner and showed up at Hill's. I knew every face. I changed into boxers. I felt sleepy. I took two pictures. We left at one.

First pic of 2014.

When I look at people who are older sometimes I get nervous. Like, when does That Life happen and will I know and can I avoid it? But what I've started to realize is when I was 16 I didn't get that I wouldn't always want to be 16. I don't always want to be in my 20s either. I don't know why, but I know I don't.

Neek & Hill & Dog

And so we're told this is the golden age,
and gold is the reason for the wars we wage.

A Few Good Men

Be a supportive person. You have no reason not to be.

At his backyard party Friday, I asked Blue Eyes what summer held. He smiled a "you're not going to like this" and told me the job in Alabama reopened.

Blue Eyes is one of the most supportive people I have ever known. It was bad enough to think he won't be in workshop anymore. I waited until I was outside to slump my shoulders. To breathe the puffy, huffy breaths.

But. I wasn't alone on that suburban street. One: there were stars. And two: this man person to hug me tight and exhale. And three: all the goodbyes I've said before. Never gone.

It's so simple, but it means so much. To be supportive.

You did your best with a hopeless case.

That's ludicrous. You are the best thing about this place.

Aforementioned

"My mum used to say to me, 'You can't have fun all the time,' and I used to say, 'Why not? Why the ____ can't I have fun all the time?'"

Head Over Feet

Arizona is so beautiful today. I open the blinds, I run down the bright streets, I smile, I smile, I smile, hello cactus! Hello little city! I sit on my front porch. I wear my bikini top. I read pages of theory. I smile, I smile, I smile. The sun blocks out my brain--which is a good thing.

I make huge salads for me and Ro. Working through the giant bag of spinach I got at the farmer's market for three dollars. We used the strawberries I bought with Shells last night. The grocery store on Friday night. I sipped a vanilla latte and we sang Alanis Morrisette in preparation for Bug's 21st blow-out. And don't be alarmed if I fa-all. I found a hula-hoop on the wall of the dance floor. I hooped in the backyard while Shells' phone timed me, and people kept walking close to me to talk, and I would have to shoo them away. All the colors of lights. Dots of lights on everybody's dancing bodies.

Photobomb by Lowsta.

You ask how my day was.

One Ride Away

My sister arrived Friday night, but it was Saturday by the time I saw her at the condo party east of school. Celebration: First sketch show of 2012, y'all. We hugged in the parking lot and got cheesecake pancakes at 2 AM.

It was a wonderful vacation. Four whole days of sister fun. Packed to the gills. Packed.


Pookie at Farmer's Market. Caramel Salted Peanut Butter Banana Scone! Vegan!

We hiked, we noted jackrabbits, we ate pasties, we ate pizza, we ate Ethiopian. We saw Richard Dawkins speak and deconstructed it with Blue Eyes and co and an Irish pub. We went to two Superbowl parties and baked monster oreo-filled chocolate chip cookies for the Giants. I screamed during The Woman in Black and bit the straw of my loyalty movie cup. We had bowls of Reese's Puffs. We sat in my hot tub in the dark. I watched her bike ahead of me today on the sidewalk. It felt like the beginning of summer. We wore baseball caps.

She's at the airport now. Waiting to board. We're still in the same city, but we're not together. This kills me. I miss my sister already, but I know that she's only a plane ride away. Just a few hours and a couple hundred dollars. It's doable.

Yesterday in Theatre for Social Change class we did an exercise where our instructor named a type of oppressive statue, and if you qualified, you were to step off the line we all stood on, walk five feet, turn around, and look at all the people who were privileged in that department. One qualifier was, "Cross the line if you grew up poor." Two women walked across the room.

Life is tough if you're poor. It's scary to wonder about the basics--warmth, water. Someone told me last week giving up meat was hard for her because she was raised poor, and meat was a treat. To give it up willingly seemed ridiculous. But, out of everything, being poor would be hard because your sister might not just be a plane ride away.

I'd starve for days if it meant ensuring Pookie will be a plane ride away forever.


Pookie shoves a marshmallow heart in my mouth while we get ready for bed.

With a Bow in Her Hair

But not for long. I love the feeling of irresponsibility in stride. Staying up far too late and knowing there will be hell to pay...but not that much hell. Just work in the AM, just the possibility of being tired in the PM. That's all. That's all.

I love you.


Improv Troupe pre-LA show. November 2011. Minus Sid.

Stayed Up

When I come home from parties, there's no one to greet me.
I climb up the stairs, I strip to underwear, I brush my teeth for longer than might be necessary. It feels so good.
I get to sleep however I want in my bed big enough for two. Sometimes I put my head at the feet. I can journal at night--or not. I can blog. I can hum exactly one verse of "How to Save a Life" that has been stupidly stuck in my head.

I have no backrubs to give, no decompressions to share. I leave the small pile of clothes on the floor. I sleep immediately when I want to, no pawing or jabbering half-awake.

And I would have stayed up with you all night
had I known how to save a life.

Everyday Would Be A Holiday

Sitting in bed holding this computer, typing this blog post at 11:20 PM.
Biking home from Boulder's.
Grading screenplays on the floor--a cookie in one hand and grading pencil in the other--while Boulder does dishes in the kitchen.
Chatting it up with the acting MFAs over mashed 'taters, Hawaiian rolls, mac & cheese, and steamed veggies.
Running into JD on my way from class to Boulder's house. Being literally shocked out of speech since it is so rare to see anyone on campus you actually know.
Discussing globalization of theatre--especially China.
Finishing the play Wild Man on the cushy chairs outside the Theatre History classroom.
Writing Muff a long e-mail.
Pretty dec sketch meeting. I wrote one that will require singing and a giant cake puppet.
Getting a text from Boulder that says, "Monday night football party and food tonight!"
Proctoring tests to kids with ADD!
Running four miles to some A. McMahon.
Biking to school in the cool morning.
Reading some S & H.
Leftover pasta for breakfast.
Waking up to "Holiday From Real" at 5:45.

Scooby Dooby Doo

After like five years of more attempts than I can count, I wore my seahorse boxers in public without judgement. Last night I went to a pajama party at two comedy boys' house. Pretty much everyone I knew from sketch/improv/standup was already drunk at like 4 PM or earlier. Welcome to my school.

Anyway, Chelle kept trying to get me drunk, being all devious and giggly as she would ask me to hold her shot and then just get another one. Bwah bwah. Sid was equally coercive. Some random dude with a mohawk kept finding me all night, no matter where I stowed away, to give me very poorly constructed speeches as to why blacking out is necessary. (Obvi, one of us was just a speech and debate coach, and one of us wasn't...) During one of these speeches, he mentioned to someone passing by, "Oh yeah, and Scooby Snacks are on the way."

"Oh!" I said. Immediately I was back in second grade, sitting at my childhood friend Hilg's kitchen table, her mom bringing us Eggos with ice cream on them. "I want a Scooby Snack!" Chelle looked incredulous, "You won't take a shot with the girls, but you'll have a Scooby Snack with this guy?!"

Uh oh. Abort. Abort. "Oh...I'm just kidding." I said. Had I actually believed someone brought a waffle iron to the shindig? Mohawk dude winked and said, "I'll make sure you get one." I tried to backpedal. I disappeared to the back porch. Somehow, he kept finding me and offering me a cup of this slime green substance. No, no, no, I'd say, but it was like he got hit in the head and lost all his memory after the moment I showed mistaken joy in eating a delicious ice cream novelty.

No moral to the story. I'm just twelve.

Sketchy Girls

Yesterday night as I was biking off campus, the parties were just getting started. Thursday night and the streets are flooded with packs of students hitting the bars. I waited at a light with two other young men. One tatted out with long gnarly hair holding a skateboard and one guy in a suit holding a briefcase.

A triplet of girls walked in front of us yapping loudly to one another--they all wore skin tight skirts that barely ended below their butts. The guys watched the ladies as they passed. The skater inched back to the business dude in an attempt to have a private conversation away from me. I braced myself to eavesdrop their offensive banter. But the skater said quietly to the other guy, "It's just like...where's your self-confidence?" The business dude nodded. "They're young. They have a lot to learn."

So, that was nice.


Girls with self-confidence! The ladies of my sketch group! Out for Ethiopian food to celebrate our first sketch show of the year! It was this afternoon! It went well!

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Last night much of the theatre cohort went out for Simba's birthday. We closed down the bar talking about SO MUCH THEATRE STUFF while Simba shamelessly flirted with the waiter and drank so many martinis he started doing the sign language to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" for no particular reason. I was so tired at the end of everything that the only thing I could do on the ride home was eat my boxed half-salad. Lunch today was pretzels. Oops on the premature leftover consumption.

I had just enough alertness to write in my gratitude notebook or brush my teeth before passing out.

I woke up tasting goat cheese.

But the real news is that I start my new part-time job tomorrow! Working at a sandwich shop down the block! What up free avocado/provolone melts? Here's hoping.

In the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight.