Hoku 4 Days

Writing with some humility this evening. On Friday I had a little bit of a grumble fest. I had just been featured in a real fest--a good, cool sketch one--and it was just really hard to see my work for some reason. It was so imperfect. It always is.

Hunny and her new husband plus Blake and Da had come out to see this silly thing I wrote. We went to the bar across the street. I put on a happy face (half-earned because I like those people a lot) and shouted over the music, but concern stewed in me. After moping home I let it go because otherwise the ghost of failure yet to come would eat me whole.

There are good times and okay times and times of survival lately. Yesterday I was sitting in the library. I love libraries. Especially tiny ones like the one across from my apartment. I eavesdropped on the kid's corner and sat in an oak chair. I looked objectively at my weekend and wanted to slap myself across the face. I am living a very very good life, and I have got to stop grumping when one percent of it is imperfect. I mean, let me talk about my weekend. Seriously.

Friday I was featured in a sketch festival. Supportive, cool people came. We hung out. Bisque bought me a cranberry juice. Once home I popped some popcorn and chomped on a big block of Christmas gift milk chocolate from one of the beuff's work clients.

Saturday morning we did two intense workouts, ate greek yogurt parfaits, relaxed, planned some playwriting classes, read. I went to the library. I sat on the floor. I was in no hurry. Dunt is in town with her mom. She took us out to a super delicious Mexican dinner I ordered the nachos. We got home early since they were en route to a show. Bisque and I watched The Babadook. It was totally entertaining. Afterward I walked in the not-even-that-cold December night to Walgreens for ice cream and flamin hot Cheetos, which I ate before curling up with my laptop and MTV's True Life.

I woke up to happy friend texts. I ran five miles. I had a musical improv rehearsal. The grocery shopping was full of goofs and snickerdoodle Chex Mix. Dusty took me up on my offer to join us at a super discounted magic show. We sat in the Palmer House Hotel parlor and had our minds blown. I mean, I saw a man knife himself out of a balloon and pick the audience member's card tonight! Meanwhile I have the best boyfriend ever, immediate text contact with my whole family, can do laundry in my apartment, and Poptarts exist. THINGS ARE PRETTY GOOD.

Getting rambley now, but I'm so beyond guilty of seeing my life as a bunch of progress always always yet to be made. Enjoy the trash TV, the junk food, the fact that you don't have to do anything at all and still to live is beyond explanation in that very good way.

Stick to Your Deal: Part II

The four of us were at the kitchen table full of markers and campaign stickers. My neighbor, vice president. Peppermint was to be secretary. Smidge the treasurer. And I was running for junior high study body president. Our ticket was SNAP--acronym of our names. ("It's a snap, vote for us!") We were writing our speeches. My big campaign promises were breakfast and a Christmas dance. Peppermint was most hesitant. She was scared of being on a ballot. She did not take rejection well. I'd seen her tear up during the thirty seconds people chose lab partners in Honors Science. Then we found out the Girl With the Best Handwriting was running for secretary too! From then on Peppermint was always muttering "I don't want to win anyway."

We drafted what we'd say at the assembly. "Maybe I don't have the best handwriting," she started. And my neighbor's mom, making up a tray of snacks for us (oh, to be thirteen again) hemmed in, "I wouldn't say that. Who cares? You don't need to make yourself look bad. Don't say that."

Humility is huge. We should be self-aware, but our weaknesses don't always have to do with the situation at hand. So don't make them. Stick to your deal.

I lost. I was runner-up. Out of six. Not bad. The faculty sponsor of Student Council told me "It was close." She leaned in, "Close." I was good. I ran for class rep and won. My mom was principal. She was there when the votes were tallied. I asked her how close. "You were definitely second. But there was a pretty big gap." She could have easily lied, but that's not how it was. Wasn't the honest result.

Middle school Poms team. Far left top Peppermint, left-mid Smidge, left-bottom neighbor. I'm also in here.

Peanut Butter Pop-Tarts!

Well, two of my favorite food items in the world have combined. Please fill my coffin with Pop-Tarts Gone Nutty! I am kidding. Cremation is better for the environment. But sprinkle some crumbs in my urn!

It feels like winning the Willy Wonka golden ticket when you open the box!

 Both Tarts are an A. Period. Soft pastry shell with delightful-quality pb inside. That's an A.

The regular pb tart has no icing. However, it kind of helps me feel like I'm not eating a processed dessert for breakfast. The chocolate tart is just, well, a joy to have in class. I don't want to say I am in love with these snacks, but, let me put it this way: if I had to marry a toaster pastry, I would marry the choco pb Pop-Tart. Well, let me put it this way: if I could marry a toaster pastry, I would marry the choco pb Pop-Tart. And I would become a widow during the reception.

Pool Party

Sisters in front of an ice turkey on Thanksgiving. 2010.

Generally speaking, a lot of our problems come from thinking we are more important than we are. Thinking, "I have to do it or no one else will!" Of course, there is a time and a place for this kind of anxiety--like if you're alone in a building disabling a bomb, or if your sister is coming home after a very long dress rehearsal and will want cookies and ice cream because she skips dinner, so she can dance better AND YOU MUST PROVIDE HER WITH SNACKS!**

You know me, I'm against apathy. But, I am FOR realizing other people can do stuff. And other people should do stuff that you've grown out of or makes you miserable, you know?

You ain't the Pool of Bethesda! You can't solve everythang! Heck! Even the Pool of Bethesda could only heal one person per day!

**Sisters should provide sisters with snacks.

'Cause the stray that you found
That looked so cute at the pound
Now has you putting her down as rabid
If it was badder than bad
Well, then – you oughta be glad
You can break it like another habit