Prosthetic

Difficulty in zooming out. You know when something feels off? Something's just not sitting quite right. I've felt it all weekend. And here I am at the end of said weekend. I don't have a "job," but I workhorse the days away, both good and not so good. I should take a day to not this week. It's difficult though. When I have afternoon meetings scheduled. And I need to stay sharp and focused but also can't over-focus.

Chill, I wish I could believe. It feels right to pet a sweet dog by a pool at my friends' girlfriend's birthday. I even post a short video, but later when I go to look at it I am bombarded by recurring footage of our despicable VP avoiding eye contact with immigrants. Suddenly I feel guilt for the dog video.

Puhg and I have Thai lunch and I gush about what I'm learning to feel about my career. One step out the door I'm watching a mentally ill man scream on the sidewalk, and a person inside me throws up her hands, "Oh why bother at all?" I am all caught up on Big Little Lies now. Nicole Kidman, what a delight. I remember The Hours, but at the same time I can't remember much about The Hours. It was So Important and Noteworthy and got Awards, but it boils down to oh, I don't know. There was a prosthetic nose.

We just talked about Meryl today even. I voiced I was reading a scene in a play about a Kentucky family accidentally selling the minerals on their land for what they thought would be a good price. But, no, it was stupid Rockefeller gutting the soil for oil. Puhg and I stew. It's hard not to despise rich people. We work on it. We really do. But it's hard. I know comparatively to the entire globe I am rich, so that buys me some humility. I start to go down a Google hole, a conspiracy hole even, wondering why when you Google "I Hate Rich People" there's a bunch of websites that tell you not to hate rich people. Exactly what Larry Page wants I am sure. But so, anyway, no person should have that much money. A coworker of mine once said "A million dollars really isn't that much money" and I wanted flip a desk. But then we think about some people with their millions. (Like Meryl.) Less reprehensible than most, but still, but still. Another co-worker once said some people do deserve their money. She said Jay-Z and Beyonce do, but it is literally impossible to "make" the money they keep. Ethically. To really actually make all the value. At some point, we made the money off poor people. We all have. Until Jay-Z pays the people in factories manufacturing his CDs a full living wage, he didn't make the money. Meryl is a treasure, no doubt, but I know sweatshops made her costumes. It's not her fault. It's not anyone's fault, which is why it's been happening for so long and will likely never end until the oceans swallow us whole.

And in these moments when I know everything will die--either peacefully or not so--I think being a writer is both the best and stupidest idea I could have come to. I believe both that loafing around watching TV with someone I love is the best use of time and also the saddest. I'll write something happier tomorrow.

Little Feeling of Freedom

Hunny texted me to ask if I had seen the video Taylor Swift put on her Insta tonight. Apparently she was hosting her best friend's birthday, so she hired a member of Dashboard Confessional to sing an old favorite song of theirs live. The song is "Hands Down"--an old fave of me an Hunny's also. Aw, it's like, their friendship is the same as our friendship. Except for a few million dollars. I went to the Instagram account and immediately remembered why I wasn't following it. Taylor Swift's life in pictures makes me hate mine.

In reality, I'm doing pretty well, and I am generally happy. I wouldn't ask for much to be different right now. I think I'm where I need to be. But...maybe I could have a mansion and hire rock stars for fun and also have very cute blond hair. I KNOW for a FACT, it's not as easy or exciting as it seems in pictures. I KNOW, but it's so hard to believe when all the squares are just so.

Why do I follow any celebrities on Instagram? I guess I figured I liked them so I would like seeing them? But, um, hold on, can we talk about how destructive that is. Waiting for the bus, casually scroll through people way richer and skinnier and "loved" than you. And then go on with your life. It seems like a highly unhealthy way to pass time throughout the day.

I have stopped following all the celebs I did on Instagram. I wondered, "But I want to keep up." With WHAT? I'm going to see the TV Show/movie/hear the record etc. I don't need to see the boats and the trip to Europe and the new headshot with fifty thousand comments. There are other things that are more important! Look at those.

Things I'd Like If I Were Very Rich

If I were very very rich, I wouldn't quit working, and I wouldn't want a fancy sports car. I probably wouldn't want any car still. I would go on some trips, but I wouldn't disappear and travel for a month right now. Not when there's so much happening. If I were very rich, this is what I'd want:

-a daily massage
-to take more cabs
-to have a room for a treadmill and yoga mats
-to join the fanciest gym classes
-court-side seats to the Bulls
-a plethora of Subway gift cards in my pockets for all the hungry people
-a big fancy shower
-a hot tub, or easy access to one
-to turn up the heat about two more degrees
-a standing cruise vacation with all my friends
-Shirley Temples at every comedy show forever and ever

A Thing I Don't Get

Riding horses. On a hike yesterday one of my campers told me she has been riding since she was one. Okay, what? How does an infant ride A GIANT BEAST. This girl (13) also owns a horse. I had previously assumed that only richo girls from the Hamptons owned horsed, but apparently it's NBD?

Camp has six horse. Which 87643 girls want to ride. I didn't get this as a camper, and I don't get it now. Where is the appeal? Is it a subconcious power thing? Like, "I can't control my life, but I hold the reigns on this"? Surely it's not a cute thing. Horses aren't cute, right? Is it a princess thing?

I have ridden horses before. I never found it thrilling or cool or even very interesting. This is a thing I don't get.

If I Were a Rich Girl YadaDadadadadadadadaDUM

Yesterday I had dinner with some friends from the South Loop of Chicago. They have this balcony that overlooks a kitchy old watertower, and a tiny garden, and clean sidewalks surrounding their front gate, and as I drove away I realized they could bike to Buckingham Fountain or walk to the beach or just trot on up the Magnificent Mile. I mean, okay, granted, yesterday was a really beautiful May day, so I could have probably looked at a roach in the proper light and found a sort of perfection, but f'real, I just fell in love with their home, and I had a thought that is very foreign to me:

I want to be very rich.

Pookie's first morning on her AZ visit. She woke up, and I handed her an envelope dad had sent us. It was stuffed fulla 2s.

I never wish to be rich. In fact, a lot of the time I actually thank God I am NOT very rich because I feel like I personally would have a lot of guilt-based issues if I were very rich. I already DO have a lot of guilt-based issues and I am kind of the antithesis of very rich. Still, its a lot of wear and tear on my Jimminy Cricket that I have to wonder if I hadn't ordered the 60 cent almond flavoring for my coffee last night, if I would have had a dollar for that homeless man across the street from the funeral parlor and Too Much Light theatre.

Also, I never think about being very rich because the things I generally really want don't require me to be so. You probably think I mean, like, love or something, but I really just mean that Reese's cups cost a dollar. ALSO, I never think about being very rich because it's just not bloody likely. Look at me. I'm getting a degree in playwriting. Pfft, yeah, OHKAY, I think I'll count my millions in the next lifetime.

But, yesterday, walking through the park of little yuppy kids of this fancypants neighborhood on their Cars 2 bikes, I did want to be very rich. I get it.

See, I'd have all the money in the world, if I was a wealthy girl.

Rich!

I am RICH! I write to you from Muff's bed, covered in pastel yellow sheets. It's 3 AM (I must be lonely?) and I've let the lovebirds to sleep. But I am up, up and energized. It's juuust getting to bedtime in the desert.

1. The song "Alone" covered in Glee Season One has been stuck in my head ALL DAY. Do you have any idea what it's like to have Kristen Chenowith's belting energy bottled up on a day of planes?

2. I repeat, I AM IN MUFF AND JAMBA'S HOUSE RIGHT NOW. I was greeted with the utmost love. I sank into their embraces at midnight in the Richmond airport and I felt so grateful, welcome, satisfied: "My friends. My friends."

3. Decorations for my stay:



4. Dinner at one AM: veggie corndog, HOMEMADE RED PEPPER HUMMUS, Oreo cupcakes, Cadberry eggs.

5. This is my other family. You guys, friendship is the best.

'Til now, I've always got by in my own.
I never really cared until I met you.