A Perfect Adventure

Saturday was an absolutely perfect day.
These kinds of days are so rare and so blissful, that it's important to me to document, so as to cite it later when they skies are a little grayer.  And so....

I started it off at friend’s place, because of course all great adventures start after a sleepover with your best friend.  From there I got coffee with someone the Universe has placed into my coven — as in I met her by chance and have run into her accidentally a few times since.  Finally we are connecting with out cosmic aid, and it was an hour and a half of pet photos, stories of travels, and comforting each other about frustrations that we thought we were facing alone.

Next up was the Drama Book Shop, where I bought a play for the acting class I’ve been taking — oh right, I’m taking an acting class — and I discovered after years of being a patron of their business, they have a shop dog.  His name is Chester.  So obviously that was ideal.

Then I went somewhere to buy a present for my best friend, which I will not describe as she has yet to receive said present.

Next to a cheap pharmacy for lipstick and lemonade; then etsy to quickly snag yet another mug from the wonderful Allison Fretheim Ceramics (they sell out within minutes of being released), and then I made my way to a doctor.  As always I resent how necessary it is for me to go to one (and by one I mean at least five types on a regular basis with copays of $50 per visit), but I did so, spoke up about some issues I’ve just been enduring, and scheduled two follow ups.  Adulting.

As a reward for said adulting, I headed to a showroom for treats I’ve been eyeing for years.  On the train there, I saw two people signing.  After smiling at them and trying not to seem creepy, I signaled for their attention the way one should towards someone who is deaf, and said “hello I know a little sign and this is making me very happy.”  They brought me into their conversation, and we were happily signing all the way into Brooklyn.  I got off at their stop…needing to head back into Manhattan; but the whimsy, the kismet, and the bliss of communicating with someone in another language made the trip into Brooklyn well worth it.
They also told me about an Sign Language Center that offers classes, which I plan on taking.

In this happy whirlwind, I finally made it to Glossier, the showroom extraordinaire, and bought the gems that had caught my eye.  I then waited way too long in front of what I thought was the bathroom, and actually may have just been a door to a stockroom.

A photographer, a small and sweet young woman, saw me waiting and asked if she could take my photo in a mirror nearby with flowers.  I said sure and so we did an impromptu photoshoot.  It was delightful and flattering.

From there, I went home, got a tad lost, FaceTimed with my best friend as she finally dyed her hair, and then headed to a friend’s place for dinner.

I thrive in this weather; this day of not quite heat, but still a break from the air hurting your face.  I thrive with my friends; the delightful souls who’ve accepted all my weird little quirks and lengthy backstory and let me love them as much as I do.  I thrive on following chance paths that remind me that days like this are possible.

I face a lot physically.  There are days like today where I have to spend $100 on meds to breathe.  Just breathe.  I pay to live.  And so it's incredible when I have a perfect day, a residual of all the work I've put into getting this far, a dividend of the life I've been investing in.  I document it so as to remember, to have something to look back on when the weight of the fight feels too much to bare, so as to remember how lucky I still am.  Every day may not be this kind of adventure, but these days are well worth the wait and the work it takes to get there.

(the beginning of the journey; this one and the next)

For the Love of Words: Fragile

I am learning to love myself through words.
I've loved words since I found my free will, and have since wielded them to reaffirm, confront, comprehend, or escape my emotions; yet I've yet to seek self-love through their hums and vibrations.

I recently received a package.  It contained a beautiful mug made by Allison Fretheim Ceramics.  I found her work via a witchy subscription box, another effort to reconnect with myself and beliefs.  I missed my first opportunity to own a piece of her art, but waited for the next series, and collected my handmade vessel.  It has moons, and dots as constellations surrounding it.  It will hold all my "potions" and potions, and each sip from it will help me find me.

I mention it, however, not just to share a beautiful piece of art, nor my love of the moon and all things celestial, but because of the box it came in.  You see, she puts care into all that she assembles, even the packaging.  The mug was snug and even wrapped with twine and flowers, like something only fitting of Amélie.  My name was written on the box, and the sides were stamped with a moon...and the word "fragile."

Fragile.

I have stared at this word for the last week.  I couldn't bring myself to toss the box in with the rest of my recycling.  There was something about the word...

I am fragile.  My joints ache and degrade like an elderly person.  Most of my body attacks itself and my remedy is to kill my white blood cells, which reversely makes it easier for me to get and stay sick.  I should've died when I was twelve.  Every day since has been sustained solely by modern medicine and my stubborn tenacity to live.  I know that I am strong; a word I once hated because it mostly means endurance...yet I've learned to wear "strong" as a badge of honor...but fragile...

Fragile I've seen as weak.  My sensitivity I've learned as a flaw.  The hardest part being that it wasn't a choice.  Fragile is a state.  This mug, my joints, even my emotions, are fragile by nature; but what I've realized this week, staring at this stamped word, is that their fragility doesn't make them any less powerful.

This mug may be fragile, but it literally helps nourish me.  It makes me feel connected, even just to those who have seen and admire the art sculpted into it.
Being fragile is not something I need to feel ashamed of.   It may limit me physically, but it doesn't diminish who I am and the light I wish to bring to this world.

Just as this mug, with its unique grooves and textures wouldn't compare if were it made of plastic or something more durable, I wouldn't be me without that which makes me fragile.  It doesn't make me weak, nor inadequate.  It is just part of my reflection.  And just as when I look into the mirror and I see my curly hair or how my smile touches my eyes, I will see this word and remember that it is a trait of the self that I love.

[the mug, the flowers and the word]

Ode to Success

I have noticed a trend in the people that I admire
In the people who are successful
In the people who are happy

They never stop.
They never stop working
They never give up
They never question what it is that they want to do.

And they succeed because of that tenacity
And that body of work that speaks for itself
Literally in its volumes.

So I will attempt to follow, not wallow, in their footsteps.
To continue even when I feel down
To work even when I am demotivated.

To fight to bring the light I want to share with this world.

No Longer the Grinch

If you have spoken to me ever between the months of October and January, you know that I hate the holidays.
Almost eight years ago I left the toxic bindings of my abusive "family," had major surgery, and then a month later moved to upstate New York for college.  I had three jobs by the end of my first week, ultimately having four at a time while being a full-time student.
One of those jobs was at the local equity theatre.  I worked the holiday show every winter, as I didn't have anywhere else to go (nor could I afford to leave), and it was nice being able to work full-time without simultaneously balancing school.
That, however, meant every person I encountered while working would earnestly ask "you mean you aren't going home to your family for Christmas??"
I didn't know how to say I didn't have a family or a home.  I didn't realize yet that I had PTSD and those two words really triggered me.  I didn't know how to tell these well-meaning individuals that I didn't live in the same shiny snow globe of convention that they were used to, nor how it broke my heart that I didn't.  And I didn't know how to avoid breaking their without lying about my circumstances.

It was especially hard the first couple of years, when I hadn't yet gotten used to the weight of the cloak of guilt on my shoulders.  I've never ever regretted leaving, but I know it was a (justifiable) selfish choice, and I didn't know then how to wear my chosen circumstances as a badge of courage.  I just knew I was different and that this season was a constant reminder of it.
All of my "peers" would disappear onto planes and return with tans and stories and presents.  It was a reflection of what I didn't have, and yet I felt like sadness was my price for being free.
All of this reasonably lead me hate to the holidays so so much.

BUT HERE IS WHAT I'VE LEARNED: things change.

I am stubborn as hell, so I don't easily admit this, but.....the holidays don't suck now as much as they did then.  For one, everyone now is working.  I'm not the only person in my age group that I know who's having to sacrifice every minute that could be spent making art to instead secure a roof over my head.  There are still a few more obstacles that I'm juggling, but my circumstances have been largely normalized.  Pity traded for a piece of empathy.

And then there are those in my life.  I've finally realized that it was mostly my own voice saying I was different, and can change the melody to a reminder of how lucky I am to have those who love me.
A few years ago friend tried so hard to give me Christmas.  I had a family to spend it with and did all the Christmasy things.  It's hard now, because I have a reference for what I'm missing and missing out on...but honestly that's mostly the traditional stuff.  And look at me, look at my life, even just look at this post: I am anything but traditional.  What I do still have, however, what he did give me, was the assurance that today I can feel loved.  No matter what I do today, no matter how many people I do or do not see, no matter if I even want to have a good day, it is the holiday of Christmas and I know that I am loved.
I was by those working the holidays shows with me.  I am by the friend's mom who helped me have a home when I was eighteen and has never stopped caring about me.  And I am by my best friends that are my entire world.
I know every other day of the year how lucky I am to have those who've stood by me; I think it's time to admit that I can remember that on this day, too.

So have a good day, or don't.  You're allowed to feel sad, you're allowed to feel grumpy and alone.  But maybe in the midst of this chaos of a day, try remember those who love you for who you have chosen to be, and let's both learn to accept that as enough.


(My view/art made of a photo of the kit mixed with some colors from How the Grinch Stole Christmas)

Growth: (verb) the act of using art to change the world.

It's been an incredible week.
Sure, there've still been those moments when I'm aggravated and wishing for change, but then again that's just growing.  A tree bends and shapes itself towards the sun, and that's what I'm trying to do.
And art - that is my sun; my source of life, that which allows me to photosynthesize and recreate myself into the person I want to become.

And this has been a successful week.

For one, I've started writing a play that I actually really love.  I've been working on it before and after work, which actually has given a sense of accomplishment to my day.  I'm often too exhausted to do anything at all after my nine hour shifts....but knowing that I've worked on creating a world...it's much more satisfying than then watching something on Netflix until I fall asleep.

Speaking of writing, this week I also read aloud some of my poetry.  It was on a stage and everything, and I don't even want to acknowledge how long isn't been since I've stood on one.  It was very assuring.  My friend invited me to a Galentine's Day event, with face-painting, arts and crafts, friendship bracelets, snacks and art; a.k.a. it was dream.

There was a lot of stand up, one incredible conceptual art piece presentation revolving around Tinder and musical performance, and me.  The day of I still didn't know what to read.  I realized I'd forgotten a notebook with most of my writing at a friend's place.   I considered reading something from this blog, but most of my posts are a tactful organization of my stream of consciousness; my poetry is different.  More vulnerable.

And then I remembered something I started back in October: I have a daily planner but instead of deadlines and appointments, my agenda is a poem.

Back in high school, an incredible teacher taught us to see art through the scope of "Creator vs. Interpreter": to put it simply, to do a play I made is creator.  To do Chekhov, a friend's work, or something made by literally anyone else, is interpreter.
And the goal of my planner was to hold myself accountable for doing both each day.
It's like an artist's version inhaling and exhaling.

Thus I sifted through some of my exhalations from the last four and a half months, and chose four poems which I read in three chunks and called it Love in Three Parts.  Don't worry, they're at the bottom of this post.

And loves, it was incredible.  I was in a room full of strangers with the exception of the one friend who invited me.  And I get insecure in big groups.  I know those of you who know me don't believe this, but I do; especially when they all know one another.  It's not noticeable to them, but part of me retreats.  So to go from that, to someone speaking my truths, I felt the room change.  The way they saw me, the way they saw themselves; like the heat coming on after the streak of a cold breeze.

It was a moment I don't think I will forget.

And to seal off the powerful week, last night I saw my friend's production.  He directed an original play called Subverted, which was so powerful and appropriate that it was haunting.  It's the type of show I want high-schoolers dragged to, not realizing how much this will shape the person they decide to become.  I heard the audience struggle to suppress their "mmm"s of empathy as we collectively fought tears.  It was exemplary of what theatre is meant to be, and the power that art has to change the world for the better.

I am inspired.  I am motivated for the first time in awhile, feeling finally that art isn't taking a backseat to survival (and seeing as I make art to survive, it's been a vicious cycle when it's not at my forefront).   It's reviving to know that my day has consequences, that I'm not just repeating the same things over and over for paycheck...that I'm part of helping the world grow.  It means there is light again.  The sun was obstructed and I was withering.
Now I must regain my strength, and blossom.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Something Good

Loves!!  Yesterday I had a production meeting for a web series I'm going to make with a coworker/friend!  We have a concept that we found literally just in joking around and following through with the idea. 

And follow through is the big word here, because it's easy to talk about ideas, but it only counts when the work actually happens. 

It was a productive meeting, too. I'd written down some ideas for the series as well as which responsibilities we could own.  And my cohort is pretty incredible; he knows how to get things done, and is a great sounding board for workshopping and developing ideas.  He's only ever supportive and full of good intent, so I think this will be a wonderful experience. 

Plus it makes sense. 

I want to be in TV film and so I will have more to show.  This blog allows me to express myself through writing, but I also enjoy filming a story I've created, the magic of editing, and yes, of course, acting in front of a camera. 

I'm starved at this point; since graduating, I've spend these two years traveling to and starting new lives in multiple cities, in search of community, inspiration and love. Not to mention this is the first time since I've been on my own that I haven't had additional support. College was tough, having four jobs while being a full time student, but Financial Aid was always there to help. 

I've been entirely independent. I have a job that supports my health well enough, and does make me happy....but I need more art. 

So stay tuned. 

Creation is coming. 

 

(A BTS photo of our meeting. Rainbow cookies were a must)

To Be An Artist and to Be Alive

I had to leave work today because I realized I was doubled over in pain.  And normally I’d feel guilty for leaving my team or worried as to why I felt so ill… Or perhaps simply put on some Netflix and vanish for a bit.

But no.

Today I am grateful.

Today I am holding tightly to the coattails of creativity, trying to stretch out my thoughts towards inspiration; octopus arms reaching anywhere and everywhere for a single morsel of prey.

Only I’m not hunting to kill, I’m hunting to create.

I’m searching for a crumb of thought, a thread of an idea that maybe has a pearl strung onto it somewhere down the line.

I am stretching my mind in as many directions as far as it can go, before I lose the creative strength to keep reaching.

So much of life is scheduled.  Is spent waiting for times to exist; breaks in which to realize that we are alive.  To live in that bright clarity, the blue skies of assurance and reflection conceiving one moment in time where all of your past and your present compress into one thought.  Where we can stand upon only one stone and say “wow.  This is me.  As I am now, as I am here.  No regrets or worries play any real role in who I am; all that is true is That.  I.  Am.”

So rarely do we get these moments to genuinely discover our own existence.

And I am now.

So I try to discover why....What have I done that has allowed me to feel this free.  To be, to live, to create.  It’s like there’s an urgency, like needing to pee, that until I can have my computer in front of me, my mind managing to puppet my hands as quickly as it develops each individual word of the sentence, like forming one step at a time up a staircase with no yet decided direction….that is what I must do.

I think my dream is to be in a space where I can say “excuse me for a moment” and go-do.

Elizabeth Gilbert in Big Magic talks about inspiration as something to respect.  If we flake on it, put it off, tell it now’s not really the best time, to come back whens something more important isn’t occurring….it’s never going to return.

All I want is the freedom to create when inspiration comes to visit.

I was listening to Pete Holme's podcast with Reggie Watts, talking about the need to seize those “micro-moments,” those “windows of opportunity” when you think of a question, a little risk, inviting someone over, asking a friend for a truth, talking to a stranger, going somewhere new and alluring….all of these thoughts have little voices whispering to us…what if we raise their volume and choose to follow their advice?  

That is risk.  That is adventure.  That is opening yourself up to the world tentatively wondering whether to show you its magic.

That is the crumb trying to decide whether to be found.

The seed considering whether to let you grow…this is the beginning.

So what is new.

I have new people and even that is in constant motion, like landmarks to hold onto when crawling through a storm, like a moving subway car.  I grip onto someone there and beautiful and perfect, helping me found my ground, and then the Universe shifts, and I am stumbling again, no longer able to hold onto them for support.

I am reminded of the tea leaves I read for myself a few weeks ago.

Moments of suspension preceded and deceded by the constantly shifting winds.

And so I have them.  A new system of those to fall onto, to lean into the worlds of those so unique and rare that I can’t help but be sad to lose my balance from them.

But that is my desire for control.

That is my not trusting that where I fall next is where I need to be, and not trusting that maybe I’ll fall back onto this same space, and I’ll  be able to appreciate her more after our journey apart.

I suppose these landmarks aren’t stable themselves.  We really are just a sea of people all falling and catching ourselves on different strangers….well, only if we have the courage not to form a landmass of unchanging stagnancy, latching onto a group in hopes that nothing will never change, those in the cave who can’t see the light, and thus never learning what else there is to be explored.

I am trying to love the momentum.  I hate loss…all that I want is to love love love those that I love…and to make art and go do.

But maybe I need to voyage to get to this space.

If I hadn’t feared losing a bouy, I wouldn’t have chosen to spend time with new friends.  I saw a storm headed towards me in the east and so I set my sails west.

And had that storm never existed, and never would’ve found the coattail I am gripping onto that has lead me here.

If I hadn’t been too frustrated at being saddened that I couldn’t endure music, I wouldn’t have found a podcast, which referenced another, which had that interview with Reggie Watts, the master of organically moving always.  If the winds blew my sails to my end destination, I wouldn’t have spent time with the friend that lead me to rediscover who he is...nor the friend's friend who validated the podcast.  Nor would I have put it on to help endure my physical pain on my subway ride home from work.

This creation would not exist.

And it is infinitely more valuable than arriving now to where I want to someday be.

By not seeing the foglights taking me home, I had to journey somewhere else and collect the gems that now have light shining through them, casting the newest image of the artist and person I want to be. 

I am creating these words because I couldn’t receive what I wanted to hold.  Empty hands, an empty heart being teased, told to wait while fearing no return...that, is what’s allowed me to grip more tightly onto where I need to be.

And like a kite with a long tail, the wind will blow me off course.  The back of the bus is bumpier and shifts you places you didn’t expect.  And that kite tail collects wind-bound strands of DNA, is caressed by leaves it otherwise would never have met the beauty of - sometimes the ambiguous momentum is where the real journey lies.

In music it’s a chord progression that doesn’t quite finish when you wanted and instead takes a bridge to another land, which allows you to feel the final chord from a different perspective.

And it's not about appreciating the stability when it’s found….it’s realizing that the journey you’d hoped for all along is the one that is of the most tumultuous, most terrifying and sometimes painful waves, that cause you to realize “holy shit I am so alive.”

A Happy Check Point:

Hello my loves.

I’m in a good place today.  I’m hopeful.  I’ve slept enough, it’s not unbearably hot in my apartment yet, and tomorrow is Spencer’s birthday.  (Don’t worry, more on that will come.)

As far as work goes, I love my job.

Yesterday I got to help a crowd of people easily understand ideas so complex that if I told them how complex they were, they’d insist they were too advanced; I’ve found that people’s biggest obstacle in learning is themselves.  So getting past that and helping them learn was incredibly rewarding.  

After that, I spoke to a young guy I swear will change the world.  We discussed how people value the wrong things these days.  Certain sports shoes are popular out here, for instance, and he was saying that people only like them because someone told them too; a blog post, a celebrity, a friend.  That most of the people he knows gets them just to look at, not even to wear, and, again, not because of their own passion.  And he added that he knew two people who were killed for their shoes.

I was speechless at that point.  What can you say when you’re confronted with a society that values shoes more than a human life?  We talked more on what matters to him, and how he cares about originality; someone who follows their own happiness, not what others say they should value.  He was a magnificent soul and I hope the right luck finds him, because he absolutely is a visionary.

And this was someone I’d probably never meet outside of our store. 

Demographically we have little in common, and yet — I want to say spiritually, but by that I don’t mean some greater force guiding us, but rather the yearning that we both feel as humans to make something out of this short time that we have to be alive — and so spiritually we completely understood one another.  Nowhere else would I have been given the time to get to see this stranger so truthfully.

I’m so happy restoring from back up can take a few minutes :P

I also met a law student who was studying for the Bar Exam, and every time she was waiting (for her appointment, for the answers about her computer, etc) I would quiz her on what she was studying.  In that small time, I could see her kindness, and tell that she’s going to be an incredible lawyer.  Not one that entered that field for money, but rather one who prides herself in defending children and victims, who speaks up for those that are voiceless.  She is selfless.

And I also worked with a fellow poet, and got to share with her my new favorite gadget for creating.  She also complimented my look, and in the spirit of honesty and not vanity, I get that a lot at work….and that’s exciting.  I am different and always have been, and it’s great to know that it’s manifesting into something notably confident and distinct.  It gives me hope that when I start acting again, that when I walk into the room, they’ll see that too, and perhaps that’ll give me opportunities that I long for.  She also had that look to her, not my style per se, but something completely different and thus compelling.  It was a wonderful way to end the day.

So I love my job.  I get to connect with strangers, as I enable kindness, growth and art, both within them and myself.

So it’s no wonder then that I don’t want any other role.  That’s why I’m not in Philadelphia right now.  There was one position there that went to someone else, and I don’t want to move there an wait three years for another opening in the role that validates who I am and who I want to be.

So instead I’ve been looking for cities near Philly (so I can still see my love bugs there) but where I can also work this job and towards a career in art.

Have you guessed it yet?

I had an interview this week for a store in New York.

And I almost started crying, it sounded so amazing.  Their trainer team is twice the size of mine, which means the community openly embraces coming in to learn.  And most of what they do (PHOTOGRAPHY WALKS IN CENTRAL PARK) is so unbelievably brilliant and beautiful that I can’t believe it’s real.  They’re ideas you’d entertain for half a daydream, and then realize there’s no way that could work…and yet a someone there it more thought, and found a way to turn those dreams into a reality.

Soooooo clearly I want to be there.  To work in an environment so open to possibilities and growth and change?  That’s my dream.  I’ll hear about what’s next soon and will write more then.  But I’ll say this: it feels like the right path for me.

***

When I was seventeen, I was taunted about wanting to study theatre in college.  An unwanted authority boomed that I’d be “missing the boat to [my] life.”  I skipped the fight and instead wrote my response in one of my notebooks: that “there are enough people in this world and enough things to do, that you might as well do the thing you love.”  I still stand by this.

And I know New York is another city, but my main complaint here is that I can’t get anywhere on my own.  I want to explore, and to run errands, and to feel safe after the sun sets, and to get places without it taking two hours in each direction…and this city is isolating.  You don’t talk to strangers, or make friends in line at coffee shops….and that’s clearly a huge part of who I am.  I want to feed that part of my soul.

And I also love moving.  Not the act of dragging everything I own from place to place, but being somewhere totally new.  Being frustrated with something from your old world and going somewhere where that isn’t a problem.  It solves things, it creates new opportunities, adds new places to explore, and best of all: there are new people to meet.

The store in New York that I’m talking to…has over seven hundred employees.  Just that alone is awing.  Seven hundred people with a common shared experience to talk about….how can I not find at least a dozen new best friends?  Not to mention the millions of others who live in that city.  How could anything feel mundane ever again?  Life wold be extraordinary.  And I’m hoping that dream is another the store turns into a reality.

Here's some of what I've created at work this week:

25 Things I Wish I Had Known Back in College:

Things I Wish I Had Known Back in College:

1. It’ll never be this easy to find friends your own age with similar experiences.
2. It’ll never be this easy to find friends, period.
3. For my entire life I’ve been able to make friends at school.  Sure, you may not feel connected to everyone you meet here, but it is not this easy when you’re in the real world.
4. There, not everyone is trying to make friends.  Here they are.
5. It doesn’t matter if they are in your major or not.  They feel different because you don’t know them well yet.  So go get to know them.
6. Trust me, it’ll only get harder to find the time for others.  Go get coffee together anyway.  It’ll be worth it.
7. You may pretend you are a lone wolf, but we both know that you need others caring about you to thrive.  The best way to find this is to make time for others.
8. When you find someone really important to you; find someone else just as significant.  Spend as much effort getting close to as many people as you can, because you’ll be lucky if any of them last past graduation. 
9. And when some of those loves do leave, you don’t want them to take all of the nostalgia from these four years with them.
10.  You’ll never agin know this many people in one city.
11. You’ll never again have the feeling of being a senior on campus.  Or a freshman, sophomore, or junior, for that matter…feeling this comfortable with your age, like it grants you the right to be here.  Like this campus and education are your birthright.  
12. Relish in this sense of belonging.  It’s a rare thing.
13. Focus of surviving, not the struggle.  Others will understand it in their own time, and it’ll feel validating when they come to you for help.  Find a way to make these circumstances bring you closer to them, rather than using them as a reason to isolate yourself.
14. Learning to make coworkers your friends is a skill that you learned; one that not everyone has.  Cherish when work feels like an odd activity with friends.
15. Also those work friends (and bosses) are incredible.  Learn as much as you can from them and love them fully.
16. Oh, and you’re introverted.  So you don’t have to go out and you can stop looking for excuses not to.  
17. Know, however, that you’ll never again have the option to go out to a safe location that you’ve been before, where you’re surrounded entirely by a group that knows and respects you.  So if you are gonna to go out, this is a pretty great place to do it.
18. Oh, and go for the friends, not the boys.  People make parties sound like they’re only about finding someone to hook up with….but if we see them everyday at class and don’t like ‘em, seeing them drunk isn’t going to help.  It’s perfectly fine just go for friendship.  
19. Academic courses can be taken pass/fail.  (Damn you class freshman year on human genetics)
20. Be articulate.  If you need space from someone, tell them you need space.  Don’t just disappear.  You may later wish you still had them in your life.
21. Take every opportunity there is.  And if it’s not given to you, make it and do such a good damn job at it that those who were chose wish they had instead what you did.
22. Go to others’ graduations.  It’ll help you remember that your time there is limited and to make the most of it.
23. Make new memories with your old friends.  That’s what will make room for both of your growths.
24. Travel during breaks; go home with friends.  You’ll never have this many places to crash, nor will all aspects of your life be as easily be set to pause.
25. It’s okay that not everyone knows all aspects of you.  If you find someone that only understands one piece of it, then relish in that one piece and make time with them.  It’s better to have many people that you go to for one thing, than having one person who knows it all but leaves.

Me as a freshman (top left), sophomore (top right), junior (bottom left), and senior (bottom right).

and a bonus: What I’ve Learned From Writing This List:

1. I miss being surrounded by people who know me.
2. And having something in common with almost everyone I see.
3. I miss others’ willingness to connect with someone new.
4. And I really miss having a best friend.
5. I miss being able to get everywhere I need to be BY FOOT. 
6. And common goals; like tests and evaluations.
7. I’m nostalgic, tempted to go back to school just to have a community again.
8. And though I spent so much of college stressing about casting and plays….not once on this list did I mention anything about art.
9. Art is a given, I really am much more concerned with surrounding myself with people I love,
10. And living life on a path with the fewest regrets.

My Life is Changing

I’ve lost a lot since being sick, and have had a lot of time to think about what matters to me and why I’m still fighting.  It’s not art.  I thought it would be.  I thought that being in this city to pursue what I’ve been working towards my whole life would be the reward.  But it’s not.  I’m not finding student films to audition for, nor writing screenplays as I am on bedrest: Instead I’m dying to jump into someone’s arms.  To spend time with people that love me.  To make scarves and crafts for the people I love.  Anything to show them how much they matter to me.  People are everything, I’m realizing, and I’m willing to give up anything to be with them.  More than any career, I want people to love, and it’s terrifying to release myself from a goal that I’ve had for over a decade, but it’s also a relief to know what I really want.  And that’s a family.

So I’m not saying I’m going to go out and get pregnant and raise a bunch of spawn to feel loved, but rather I’m willing to make changes to my life to be with those that I still have left.  Because this has been some of the hardest months of my life (and I haven’t had the easiest of lives) and those that are still here, willing to hold my hand and listen to me as I cry, they are more important to me than any possible career.

I don’t exactly know what this means: I still only know how to express myself in writing and feel more connected to acting than anything I’ve ever found.  But I would rather have a life without artistic success but people that I love, than achieve success alone.

So we’ll see what the future brings.

Tomorrow I move to a new home, one that I never planned on having, without the people I thought I would live with.  So I’ll see how it fits into my future. In the meantime, I know  I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep in my life those that I love, though I don’t know yet what that means….or if that’s enough not to lose them.  But I have to hope it is.

So change is happening and change will continue to come.  But if it brings me closer to those that I love, then I have to love change, too.

image by Tobias Tovera

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Some images (with their sources linked):