Taking Care

Officially in the chapter of life where I consider what's best for me. How obnoxious.

Take Friday. I was tired by 10, but couldn't sleep because of night cramps. Tried to gather some enthusiasm about ancient behavior. It was common in Chicago for me to come home long after Puhg went to sleep. I had my little rituals. Stopping by the Philly Cheesesteak storefront for a large order of seasoned fries or maybe Walgreens for Ben & Jerry's. I'd climb the four flights up, change into sweats, and have my little snack at 1 AM while watching Catfish. Sometimes I'd have work at 8 downtown the next day. Sometimes I'd get up at 6 to grade a few papers before running to the train.

So Friday I was already doomed to be awake. Luckily I had a pint of Netflix & Chilled in the freezer for such an emergency. Then I just had to be logical, didn't I? "Eh, that much sugar this late isn't going to feel so good in the morning, best wrap up in this blanket and drink more water." How dare I?

I was still up at 5 AM. Slightly out of my gourd from lack of sleep and dull pain and too many TikToks when I had the deepest truest craving for McDonald's breakfast. I haven't had McDonald's breakfast since 2015. When they introduced all day McMuffins and I got one for lunch after teaching English 101. I was violently ill later. A hashbrown? Maybe ate one in 2005?

But yesterday, dawn about to creep in, memories of childhood flitting around, I wanted nothing more than a pile of McDonalds. I filled my Postmates cart full. A McGriddle, oj, a macchiato, pancakes, McMuffin, biscuits. Did the butter still have a little print of corn on it, I wondered? Like it did when I was in pre-school and I'd rip the sausage out of the sandwich before mixing the pad with jelly. "I'll try to sleep first," I told myself. Next thing I knew it was 10:30 AM. Puhg already up, worked out, showered, coffeed, ready for his day. I urgently remembered the McDonalds. I googled when breakfast ended. I had half an hour to make it to the drive-thru.

Ah, but would that be wise? A greasy little feast while I still had greasy hair, had yet to move my body? No, no. Time to be responsible again. I sighed and put on my light pink exercise shorts. Cardio for half an hour, brushed teeth, shampooed, shaved, soaped, skin regime. I baked a tin of Trader Joe's biscuits, thinly sliced organic cheddar, fried two eggs in oil, added vegan bacon. Ate the next best thing on the patio.

You Have Hurt My Feelings (Never Too Old To Write An Angsty Poem)

You say you do not like work and would never prioritize it over a life, but you coupled yourself with a person obsessed with your work, and I do not believe you anymore. To be fair, you may not realize what has happened, but at this point, I am unwilling to accept that as an excuse because also--

You do not ask me about myself. When I tell, sometimes, you text excitedly. But rarely like my social media posts. And never follow up. I ask you about yourself and feel like I'm in the club, only to worry later, perhaps I'm not.

It is possible I thought we were friends beyond what we are. But what you said and did showed otherwise! There was a pandemic though. That's always to be remembered.

Also that person you're with talks over you all the time! They're very angry, and I see you are also now very angry. But you used to be one of the happiest people I knew. I have so many special memories of you laughing and running. Now you snarl over your riches. I understand you're worth more. We all are. But we live here and now.

By the way! It is convenient to be the arbiter of what political and social actions are "worth it" and which aren't! They all are, actually! Just to different degrees. I well-know some incite only the tiniest speck of progress. But just because you don't want to do any of it--don't act like those of us trying are fools.

It's petty but you told me you'd be there for me, and you weren't. You didn't apologize. And you also changed the subject so quickly, like I wouldn't notice. I noticed.

You have hurt my feelings.

You have hurt my feelings but you have also been there for me before. And what does one do with that? I do not trust you, but I hope you stick around. I wonder if you will. If you would if I didn't still care that--

You have hurt my feelings.

Special June 2022

 Opening this little blog with no plans about what to write. What was special this week? I've been making a list every day in my journal for the past, oh ten years of ten things I'm grateful for. I'm sure the exercise does what it's supposed to, but how many times can one write, "my hamster" before the words lose meaning? Hence this new, "what were special from today?" Like how on our way to Palm Desert on a joykill of a drive Puhg and I saw, just for three seconds, a skinny boy pushing a lawnmower, his dad watching, hands on hips, with a judgmental look. We immediately both burst into laughter. We couldn't even fully explain why.

On Monday I emailed Cowsk to ask if I could bounce some ideas off her. She always gets back to me quickly. No exception, Tuesday we had a morning spitball over mocha & seltzer. It hung over me for days. What's the best way to take this project? It's up to me but also not. Had a completely unsatisfactory dinner with someone and felt angry once I got home. But also free. There's no need to "keep up" all the time. Some folks are fine out there on their own.

Saw such a good play Wednesday with my mysterious friend. Sat right by the fountain outside the theatre chatting before showtime. We were both shocked when the usher announced, "five minutes, five minutes." I've been doing two back-bends and twenty push-ups a day since mid-April. I hate it but gosh if it isn't working. My shoulders are so much stronger and limber. I did a gymnastics move I've never done before. It didn't look as impressive as I know it was. What about recognizing some relationships get worse but can get better?

Last night was walking to the ballot box and sitting on the balcony in the afterglow of sunset and chips for dinner and two episodes of Fraiser and Beach Bunny on the Google home. The blessed ham curled right up onto my chest again, daring me to fall asleep. So smol and secure. Puhg thinks she likes to leech up the warmth. Good deal on my end.

There's a woman hunched across from me on this Starbucks patio with a humungo java chip frap loudly rolling calls. "Let's get that actor from Star Wars, the emperor" she just barked. Some guy joined her moments ago. She gave him a "one sec" finger, then exhaled "work never ends" with faux-exhaustion. There are people in this city who love not having a life. I'm not one of them.

Songs of 33 (Jesus Year)

 Free to Be Me -- Francesca Battistelli

an ironic TikTok song I started to take literally

Vineyard -- Jackopierce

nostalgic walks around the neighborhood

Spirits -- The Strumbellas

oozing into summer like

Freedom Was A Highway -- Jimmie Allen, Brad Paisley

pretending to be normal fall

Peach -- Future Islands

caving to abnormal fall

breadwinner -- Kasey Musgraves

midwestern melodies

See You at the Finish Line -- Barbie

a real cheerful banger from one of my episodes

Most Girls -- Hailee Steinfeld

Saturdays at the community gym trying to land that handspring

High Hopes -- Panic! At The Disco

anthem for learning to believe it could all happen

abcdefu -- GAYLE

screaming in the car, in the shower, in the closet organizing t-shirts

Hooked On A Feeling -- Blue Swede, Bjorn Skifs

lunges and runs, dancing and stretches

All Too Well (10 Minute Version) -- Taylor Swift

THE cultural touchstone of 2021, inescapable

I'll Never Let You Go -- Third Eye Blind

my song with Cap

30/90 -- Tick Tick BOOM

crying in the back row of the movies alone

Help Myself -- Dave Matthews Band

blasted over and over writing my Scream spec

just like magic -- Ariana Grande

bopping on the Starbucks patio with a Venti iced coffee and my goal notebook

Hammer -- Point North

the song that most got me, any day any time

Things Happen -- Dawes

reflective something as I try to get better

Just the Girl -- The Click Five

unearthed for a writing project

American Girl -- Bonnie McKee

what I envision as closing credits on the most outlandish thing I've ever worked on

Come Clean -- Hilary Duff

willing to rewrite history

That's What Girls Do -- No Secrets

fifteen drafts of my feature later

Dollhouse -- Priscilla Renea

sending aforementioned feature out

Man! I Feel Like A Woman! -- Shania Twain

prepping for and soaking in my birthday

it's about time that they go and take me serious

if you're not feelin' this, you're probably delirious

Giddy Giddy Ghosts

 At Disneyland a few weeks ago I saw a display of Mickeys and felt a nostalgic breeze. Something I'd known before I knew most things. Stacked stuffed Mickeys. I've known the stacked stuffed Mickeys three decades, can you/I believe? I had a VHS of a singalong video, Disney songs over short almost music videos of the park. Genius idea. Basically a thirty-minute commercial I rewatched again and again.

Two nights ago I couldn't sleep. I found the "tape" on YouTube. Just as I remembered and yet I didn't remember most. I think I fast forwarded big chunks, in hindsight. Yes, I think I did. I liked the Mainstreet song and Goofy sweeping and then there's a bunch of Adventureland bits that bothered me. "Follow the Leader" and Tom Sawyer's island. I scrubbed through the video just as I did on the brown beanbag in the Midwestern summer and then ah ah yes. Finally, the best part, the "Giddy Giddy Ghosts" segment. Captain Hook and a terrifying fox creeping around the Haunted Mansion. Yes, yes, yes. I felt my pupils dilate all the same. Mm the horror, mm the spooks.

I did something I assuredly never did as a child: watched all the credits. Who made this funny little project? The names came up so 1990 colorful and tilted. I wondered if there had been a discussion about if randomly shoving in a horror piece was really appropriate for the rest of the mood. Or did no one care what was going on in those stupid little side projects when The Lion King was in pre-production? "This will scare kids," I imagine someone saying, having no idea it would be my favorite part for ever and ever.

Spicy Ranch

Yesterday a man outside my window shouted for an hour at the cars whooshing by. I've seen him before. He walks around the neighborhood with a tattered poster that reads, "DON'T BUY HONDA." I've never heard his voice before. Yesterday he repeated two sentences over and over, "DON'T BUY HONDA. MY KID DIED IN A HONDA." Sometimes his voice was full of pain and other times it was rote.

Another day in paradise Thursday. I buzz into the bungalows and AP greets me with a hug by her pool. We spend the first half hour of the session chatting and laughing. Her assistant brings us fancy organic salads with farro and sweet potatoes, I'm in love. For two hours we brainstorm. I always feel like I get away with what "work" is, but then I remember it took me fifteen years to be able to hang like I can hang. I drive away full, instructing Spotify to play LFO.

But that night I text a friend who defends someone I thought we didn't like, and I feel so betrayed I can't keep my mind off the interaction for two days. I beg to go to breakfast with Puhg on Friday morning, just to have something else fill the clouds. My scone is perfect, but it's not enough.

What is is gymnastics. My main issue (with all my moves) is I just go too slow. Our coach is really laid back. He doesn't offer much feedback, which I personally like. But when he does, for me, it's a simple, "faster." I feel like I'm sprinting and whipping but when I watch the videos, gosh if he isn't right. It's like a turtle doing a roundoff. How can I feel so sure in my skin but the evidence simply proves otherwise? I walk out into the sun with a new friend. We stand by our cars talking for twenty minutes. At home I get on my swimsuit and hit the pool. It's hot enough, but cool enough I question myself before jumping in. Once I do, it's heaven. I do 15 laps, huffing and puffing.

I remember going to Outback Steakhouse after a round of mini golf when I was 19. I ordered the cheese fries as dinner. I remember the painting of cowboys and knowing it was the end, but the ranch was so good. The last time I went to an Outback was, I think, in 2014 when my sister, Dad, and I were at Mount Rushmore. I got the side salad then--the fries a distant fantasy. But then this Friday. Went to a wrestling show, and my friend, being a friend, told me I could leave after her match. It was 10 PM in Burbank, nothing was open but lo and behold, an Outback Steakhouse. And this time, I did get those fries, and they were not as good as I remembered. Not even a little bit. So now I am free.

not thinkin' bout forever just six minutes of her time

That's Showbiz

My most successful actor acquaintance in Chicago has always believed in me. I'm not totally sure why, but there are some people you barely know who just like ya. Sad was my first friend I saw on a TV show. She was in at all the big theatres--not constantly, but all of them--and she of all people was always championing me. I tried to become friends with her, and she wasn't interested. One fall I knew she was at a theatre near my office every day, but she never accepted a lunch no matter how many times I asked. But when we'd cross paths you'd never know she ignored those texts--always gushing. She set me up with an audition from her agent. She gave me a play by play of every moment of the future fifteen minute appointment. She described the agent's hair and how she tossed it, what she'd say to me, when she'd follow up with an offer. Sad met me for coffee (with ease when it came to furthering my career) and went over my monologue line by line. I've never seen someone so confident, the glimmer rubbed off on me.

I lost some weight before the audition, got a sub for my classes, printed a dozen headshots, and I went to a weird part of Lincoln Park mid-morning. I was nervous about getting there on time, so I showed up too early and sat in a Nordstrom Rack for a long time.

It's obvious from the way I'm telling this story, I did not sign with Sad's agent. I never even met Sad's agent. I showed up and nothing was the way Sad described. She couldn't have known of course. But it still shook me. The agent wasn't there and not explained for. The two young assistants (?) called me in (late), took one headshot (and looked with distain at the rest of the stack), and lead to to a small room where I wasn't sure if I was supposed to sit or stand. They were wearing jeans and t-shirts and I was wearing dress pants and a blouse. One of them said, "Okay so...who are you?" I said, "Yeah! I moved here two and a half years ago. I do comedy--just got back from touring with S___ C___ and doing a musical show. I do improv at i_ too." Girl said, "Okay. Go ahead." I did my monologue, fairly well I think, but she only gave a pinched smile. Then she said, "Okay...um...read this." The other girl, who hadn't spoken, handed me a slip of paper with ad copy on it about macaroni and cheese. The first girl said, "Read that then deliver it to camera." There was a little camcorder nearby. As looked over through the lines, she talked to her associate. "S___ C__, you know who they just cast in their new show? [Name of an improviser who was TWICE very rude to me]! She's so funny. We need to get her in here." I read the copy into the camcorder poorly. The first girl didn't acknowledge I did it. She simply responded, "Okay sing 16 bars." I felt a wave of panic rise in me but nodded, "Sure." She said, "You said you did a musical show, right?" My brain had nothing prepared, so I started singing the first song I thought of--a song that I myself wrote. I didn't know if I sang more or less than 16 bars. The girl looked over at her pal with "woof" eyes, said, "You'll hear from us," and did not look up as I left.

I walked back out into the cold day. It had been ten minutes that felt like a million. I'd already had a little plan of where I'd go to get a celebration treat. But I felt to punched in the face I just sat down, right on the curb, and ate the diet protein bar in my purse. Four days later the company emailed to say they unfortunately could not represent me.

I never told Sad but she found out herself, which also made me feel weird. What was said? By who? She texted me we could do another round of monologue work next season and try again. We never did. And yet, I really didn't miss anything.