Rollercoaster

It was less a week of high highs low lows and more a week of normalized highs and medium level lows.

In a single day (Tuesday) a handful of unreal things happened that I would not have full stop ever believed could happen two years ago, but instead, there it was. Long hugs with AP and MR, letting my old gig friends into the front door of the studio. The studio I write in. A name drop and a nod of affirmation from my boss and her boss (the bossiest of bosses). Puhg, in the expensive shoes I bought him, stood watching from the far back corner as it all went down. And as it ended a friend from summer camp of all places arrived. I told my lunch break for us to have kale quinoa bowls and guac. And then bad news was delivered that should have made me quake and cry, but it just made me think a birthday cake waffle cone of salted cracked caramel was a good idea. (It was.)

Using the roller coaster emoji because some moments I feel fine, more than fine, there's a sheer optimism shooting from me. And then there's a quick zip of metal when I think about climate change. And then a screeching jerk of the boxcar when the fear steps into that operator's box. I see it in there with it's grey crater face, moving the joystick or pressing the button or whatever those teenagers do to keep everyone on the ride alive.

Got dizzy during my workout and sat on the floor for a few minutes. I know I have to relax more. I cried trying to sort out my Friday night plans specifically designed for unwinding. Saturday was sucked up and away by an exciting work project. I would never not have done it but I lost my moment to be chill, and also my moment to finish those two scenes of the musical. Twenty days left before deadline. I want to go on vacation, but not right now. I can't. But I will. One day. These are good problems to have. I used to be be much more stressed, but it's like my body is reacting worse than ever. Took two days (almost) totally off social media and it made a world of difference. It's uncanny how my happiness is ripped straight from out behind my eyes when I see everyone else.

Tried out Sabrina last night and Pretty Little Liars today. I imagine writing everything. I have so much spaz and sprinkle in me. I feel like I just moved to Chicago again, hungry for improv jams. I know one day I won't be sparkling when I read staffing newsletters, but today I am. I feel open like I did when I was 22 and knew if I needed to I could still work at McDonald's. When I was a full-on college professor I took an application for a Taco Bell. And then there's a point where going backward can kill you. Although I did meet a waiter at H_____ of P___ who said he left his giant firm because his blood pressure was going to literally kill him. I said, "You're killing it" sincerely, but I know it sounded absolutely putrid. I've spent at least a couple hours wondering how to right the situation. But attending any energy to him would make him feel even more self-conscious. I think the only possible resolution is to see him years from now and say his words still ring true.

Or It Didn't Happen

What would you do if there would never be photographic evidence? My whole job exists because my boss has a phone addiction. I'm not knocking it (totally) but I am wondering how much we do for the proof alone we did it. I know this has never not been the case. Band t-shirts and ticket stubs and just the story "I went to Paris" even when you've got nothing to show for it. An 80 year-old man in my summer improv class never let up explaining how proud he was of his family, his former career, all the old person tours to Asia he went on. I feel bad for people who need to stuff as much as they can into the year and also live by solstice days. I guess I think intention is everything. You don't need to do something remarkable. You need to feel remarkable about the things you do.

I remember leaving a high school party, and right as I got to my car another pulled up. It was a pile of decoys from my exit--the couple everyone "will they/won't they"d, a wild boy determined to streak, maybe music? I knew as I pulled away I was missing all the things that the locker hall would buzz about in the morning. I thought about turning around, but the truth is I didn't actually care about the party anymore. I had decided to leave. I just wanted to feel included, or, honestly, more than included. I had the chance to be in the tightest circle of experience. I remember I drove home with the windows down listening to Imogen Heap. I read through my old text messages and went to bed.

It hadn't been twenty minutes since I made plans with Lo for tomorrow, but the plans were nevertheless made. Tira knocked on my window with news. A secret pop-up concert for an indie  queen. The place to BE. I know what's cooler to do on a Wednesday night. I obviously know! And Lo wouldn't mind rescheduling, but if I was being honest, that concert wasn't for me. I know it would look good in a picture, and I would probably bump into someone famous, and my friends who love that singer would be jealous, but something tugged me away.

What is a gut reaction? Sometimes it's that Malcolm Gladwell thing where your fear moves faster than your logic, sure. But sometimes it seems divine. An idea plopped down from above. I went to my jewelry cup yesterday and a strong voice said, "Do not put those rings on." So I didn't. Why would I argue? This happens sometimes. There have been times I have thought the voice led me astray, but when the dust settles, I find it never has.

Distractions

It is painful to avoid distractions, but I am more committed than ever to it. I've officially gone a month following my first New Year's Res. Every day spiritual study & journaling before phone. Less and less do I even want to engage in social media. It hurts or it distracts. I like learning this slowly instead of insistently. I like waiting three minutes for the train and looking at the track. My counselor has noted I give myself little homework assignments all day, and it's refreshing to know it is not only okay to end that, but vital to my peace.

I've been distracted since I got here, although I don't regret most of it. I reached for the lowest apple, then climbed to the first branch, then sat in the tree. But don't worry, I was scoping other trees while I was off the ground. I was making my grape net and even harpooned a mango or two. There is power in saying what I actually want to do and what I don't. It is difficult to jump down and walk away. This might be related to social media. Who knows.

I feel a yellow rush about February, or pink to match the CVS displays. What I truly am is more complicated, obtuse, but I keep getting these good signs and these interested emails and that is more than most people ever get (not to be full of myself, but to be grateful and honest). It's so regular now I only have to follow through. I have some schemes and I have accepted the investment.

That's where I will sit and make my new play. As early as I can. With an open body. That's where I will sit and finish my book. When I'm done, I'll stand in the shop and order four fancy chocolates. At least. We will make our thing. My calendar will be full of deadlines over call-times. I have two scary goals for 2018. One I have little control over, but two potential knocks. The other I have all the control over. I only must avoid the crunchy distraction.

Being Cyber Bullied

I'm doing research on cyber bullying for a project I'm working on. (Okay, it's a sketch show. Sounds hilarious, right? See you all there.) Cyber communication was a really big part in my adolescent experience. AIM was King, y'all. To be honest, I miss it sometimes. There was something very sweet about having to login and see if that person you were friends with that week was online.

A giant forgotten aspect of AIM was the profiles. Profiles were the blank space under your name where you could write anything. Common profiles would typically be song lyrics, the date you started dating someone, an inside joke for only one person, a funny quote. I was always gunning for being the funny quote in other people's profiles. There is an actual entry of my freshman year diary that reads, "I am in five people's profiles right now!"

I've been grateful while reading these bullying articles that most social media hit the scene after my school years. Maybe I wasn't aware of it, but I don't think there was much cyber bullying with simple chat. Occasionally a rando would talk to you, and you'd block them. The end. But then I totally remember that I totally was cyber bullied, but I didn't think much of it?

When I was 15, a short strange thing occurred while I was at speech team practice. It happened in about two minutes, and I bare considered it, but I guess it probably changed at least one student's life pretty significantly. A Girl asked about some cans of pop in the classroom (no teacher there for about ten minutes). Henne said, "You can't have any," thinking that's why she asked. "I wasn't going to steal any," she said, "Do you think I was going to steal them because I'm black?" Very confusing escalation. I didn't know if she was kidding or not. I didn't know Girl very well, but she was usually friendly. Another guy there (and there were five of us in the room total--the fifth sitting at a computer, her backs to us), let's call him C, said, "Take this" and pulled out a switchblade. Girl took the switchblade and pointed it at me and Henne. "You take that back" (or something along those lines). I don't even remember what happened next. I think Girl started laughing and we all kept working. I literally did not think of it again.

Until a week or so later I was pulled out of a chemistry test and asked to come to the security office. I was told to write down on a piece of paper what happened after school on an arbitrary date. I said, "Nothing." The officers kept pressing me. I had no idea. Finally one said, "No one pulled a knife out after school in a classroom?" I said, "Oh. Yeah." They smirked. I think they thought I was trying to cover up something, but I sincerely had forgotten. I said it wasn't a big deal, and they told me they needed documentation anyway. I was in the middle of a test and eager to get back to it. I wrote down a very simple statement that C had a knife, Girl held it briefly.

So, a couple days later, I find out C is expelled. How I find out is my friend Smidge IMs me and asks what I did to make everyone so mad. Apparently a dozen or so people changed their profiles to "We will miss you, C. Alice _____ will die." I guess C must have assumed I was the only one who told on him? But someone must have first? The girl at the computer? Who can say. Mainly, the result was a bunch of people at my school publicly wrote me a death threat. The weirdest part though...is how I reacted. I asked Smidge to tell me who hated me. I didn't know most of the people--C was in a grade above me. I only knew one guy, and we didn't have any classes together, so I was like, "Oh good, won't be a problem." I didn't tell a teacher or my parents or confront anyone who said they wanted me dead. I avoided those people in the cafeteria, and went on with sophomore year. In hindsight, I'm not sure how I feel about it all. Obviously I didn't feel I was in actual danger, but maybe I was? (Probably not.) It certainly wasn't right for those kids to do that, and maybe they should have learned a lesson? But somehow I was unaffected, so maybe it all worked out just fine?

I wonder how the rest of C's schooling went. I actually liked the guy. I wonder if he remembers me as a person who ruined his life.

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.