July 5, 2018

This day had more ups and downs than an emotional roller coaster ride with my ex-boyfriend. I woke up late (nice), but then had to rush around and do a bunch of work (no real rushing – did it from the couch, but felt behind in the work – not as nice). I finished that in time to shove a bunch of food in my face, but then had to get to the gym. That’s where I died. I died today at the gym. RIP self. Then I suddenly came back to life in time to clean my entire house while watching Netflix in the background and wondering how women ever do it all. All I want is a maid, a chef, an assistant, a second maid, and someone to kill the spider for me that I swear was the size of my hand that instead I had to kill before it gathered an army, told them where I was, and came after me in full force.

But the real highlight was definitely the guacamole I made. That’s right, it was the highlight. I thought I’d done a brilliant job. I set it out for a meeting and proudly presented it to the attendees. And then proceeded to eat it all myself. No one, I mean NO ONE, touched it except for me, so OF COURSE I had to eat all of it.

Then I opened up some white cheddar popcorn and no one ate that, either, so I downed it. Sometimes living in LA with all these skinny people has its downsides. Or upsides, depending on how you look at it. Either you see the glass half full – I got all of the food to myself, or you see the glass half empty – that I shoved food in my face while other people watched and judged. Answer: The glass is actually full of air, because water has too many calories.

Also, I had to leave a candle lit in the bathroom because I have a dog who likes to pee in there (on a pee pad) and it’s not a pleasant smell. But I forgot to blow it out AND to warn those same guests that she also likes to poop wherever she chooses. I found out after they left that 1. The candle is now gone and was my one defense against the smell and 2. Someone stepped in the poop and walked through my house. I am now on de-poopifying duty. Shhhhh. I do not want to talk about how I need to train my dog better.

Day 25 – Roller Coasters and Eating Alone and Dog Poop.

June 29, 2018

I had a conversation with my friend today, and after watching me practically fall apart in the passenger seat next to her for no apparently reason, she told me it’s time to let go and be free. Right now – and for the last two years – I have been doing what feels to me to be things exclusively for other people. And I have been burying my own needs and mental health concerns underneath all of that. That is NOT to say I haven’t had plenty of selfish moments because to be honest, I have them far more often than I want to admit. But I do a lot to make other people happy/not mad at me/not disappoint them, and it’s starting to take its toll.

Or else, I suppose, I wouldn’t have been crying in a Prius. Actually, there’s probably plenty of reasons to cry in a Prius, but that isn’t what happened tonight. Tonight, I realized I can’t make everyone happy.

Other people’s expectations, man. It’s hard to live up to them and it’s hard to be responsible for them. You know what I’d do on a dream day? I’d wake up early, play tennis, eat (obviously), go to rehearsal all day for a show that I wrote, do stand-up comedy at night, eat intermittently throughout all of that, spend time with friends, and go to bed with the person I love and my dog because my dog is the cutest. Yes, she is, and no, yours is not cuter or better in any way.

At no point in my dream day would I have to live up to anyone’s expectations of me or feel like I’m failing anyone or in any way feel the constant guilt I feel that I’m not what I’m “supposed” to be. Because, for real, I literally want to eat and hang out with friends and travel and do comedy and write and be on stage and cuddle with my awesome dog and the love of my life. Why do we want more than that? That, to me, is success. So why can’t it ever be that simple? I know life is hard, trust me. I know I’m acting idealistic and unrealistic. But, seriously, if people didn’t have so many expectations, I could have all of that free of judgment and guilt.

Also, I should probably see a therapist, but that’s a thought for another day.

Day 29 – Other people’s expectations suck.

June 14, 2018

I wrote a story for the first time in a long time today. No, not a story. The beginnings of a musical. That was cathartic. I haven’t felt that good in a very long time. I also wrote some comedy, but it wasn’t funny. Sort of defeats the purpose, I guess. I tried to make it funny, but then I just ended up rambling about nothing – story of my life – and instead just saved the document as it was and went to get a coffee. Like any dumb Millennial, I buy my coffee at $6/cup instead of making it at home.

I’ll tell you a little story about something that happened today. I hate purses, so I carry everything in my hands, pockets, or sometimes a backpack. I don’t have anything to carry my stuff in today, so when I walk my dog, I have my keys, wallet, phone, headphones, leash, water bottle, sandwich – you don’t bring a sandwich with you on a walk? Weird – in my hands. My dog, Emma, decides that she doesn’t want to walk like a normal dog, she wants to sprint ahead, and then stop suddenly and pull both of us backward into a plant to smell pee (her) and trip over the sidewalk (me). But I jump ahead…

So. I have my hands full, literally. We’ve made it out the door and down the steps without a problem. I immediately start thinking how impressive I am for having successfully navigated that. We get a little way down the street without a problem before Emma yanks me backward. I trip trying to catch up with her and run smack into another dog owner, who thinks I’m just being friendly and proceeds to let his dog sniff mine as she tries to pee while telling me that he just “found this dog on Thursday” and he “seems friendly.” This “friendly” dog keeps knocking Emma over with his nose. After the third time, I make up an excuse to leave, but he and his dog just follow me. So now I speed walk away without trying to make it obvious, which I’m sure I do. But Emma takes this moment to stop suddenly and pull me backward again into the bushes. I trip a second time. She looks up at me, MAKING EYE CONTACT, as she squats and starts to poop. You’ll remember that I have my hands full. I wait for her to finish. As soon as she does, she pulls at the leash back toward that guy’s dog while I simultaneously try to get a poop bag out of the container attached to her leash. When she yanks at the leash and because my hands are busy trying to get a bag, I bumble a bunch of my stuff and drop EVERYTHING smack dab into the fresh poop. Phone. Headphones. Keys. Worst of all, sandwich. It’s all poop. Everything is poop.

The guy with the friendly dog helped me separate my stuff from Emma’s stuff and clean it off. I may have been wrong about him…

I grieved the sandwich. Does that count? Baby steps?