When you are a lady playwright raised to please and to apologize, and you get a series of bad reviews written by OTHER lady writers who write directly and bravely and without apology because they were perhaps raised THAT way, THE PROPER RESPONSE IS TO EMAIL THE REVIEWERS AND DEEPLY APOLOGIZE AT LENGTH FOR RUINING THEIR EVENINGS AND WASTING THEIR TIME AND GO INTO GREAT DETAIL ABOUT YOUR SHAME AND EMBARRASSMENT AND THEN MAYBE ALSO FIND A WAY TO SEND THEM BAKED GOODS? THIS IS RIGHT, RIGHT?
I’ve either got my bosses’ flu or my other co-worker’s sinus infection or maybe just a case of pre-wedding planning / post-cleanse exhaustion. Whatever it is, I took myself to the doctor yesterday in hopes of getting ahead of whatever it is. I so rarely get sick at 1.) I’m a huge and overdramatic wimp about it and 2.) I have no idea how to deal with doctors. The nice purple haired doctor woman began by telling me that Western medicine is unreliable. She then sent me to Whole Foods with a shopping list including gut drops and immunity drops and whole pieces of ginger. She also suggested regular acupuncture and long deep sleeps. All of these sound lovely and I’m doing them but personally, I find the BEST cure to ANY ailment is to obsessively google your symptoms until you in fact feel worse. In doing so, I have stumbled across a diagnosis, which is also the best / worst LA thing I have ever heard. Apparently, during or after a cleanse, a person can experience what is called a HEALING CRISIS. I repeat, A CRISIS OF HEALING, in which a person becomes weakened by the bacteria dislodged in their body during a cleanse. And so, I PLEASE ASK FOR SUPPORT AND PRAYERS DURING THIS DIFFICULT HEALING CRISIS TIME.
I do love to torture myself with things that I can’t control, so I’ve been obsessively checking the extended forecast for the wedding day. It’s part paranoia, part a deep need to worry, and part just a mildly entertaining game. Accuweather predicts a month out, with fun little phrases like ‘plenty of sunshine’ and ‘sometimes storms’ and then ‘Sunny’ and ‘Sunshine’ because there is apparently a difference. All of last week, to my HORROR AND LAUGHTER, the forecast showed basically no rain for the entire month of October EXCEPT FOR THE WEDDING DAY. Only the one day has been plagued with rain. Each day I checked, the rain became more, the cloud hovering over the date heavier and angrier, until yesterday, it became THUNDERSTORMS. This morning, it has been downgraded to ‘considerable cloudiness.’ Basically I want 1.) for there to not be rain on the day, though maybe a thunderstorm would be cool, as long as it’s not the kind that kills people and 2.) to be the person who writes these little weather phrases, arbitrarily moves them over dates, as brides and event planners and people with boats across America hang their hearts and hats on every random word.
Sometimes I get stuck behind a garbage truck and I’m like wahhhhhhhh, I am stuck behind a garbage truck, garbage truck how DARE you, but then I remember: THE GARBAGE TRUCK IS REMOVING AND DISPOSING OF MY GARBAGE, MY ACTUAL HUMAN GARBAGE, and then I am suddenly 20% more patient, which lasts for half an Enya song AND THEN I REALLY JUST NEED THE TRUCK TO MOVE REGARDLESS OF ITS CONTENTS.
Phone developer person: People are really happy with our product.
Other phone developer: You’re right, they are.
Phone developer person:…perhaps a little TOO happy.
Other phone developer: you’re RIGHT. They’re far TOO happy.
Phone developer person: In their lives. Just in general.
Other phone developer: What’re you thinking?
Phone developer person: Okay, just go with me….people already spend a lot of time worrying about what people think of them / if they are being rejected / how they are perceived, right?
Other phone developer: yes…yes….
Phone developer person: what if we made them have to look at TINY TEXT BUBBLES THAT MAKE IT EVEN MORE CLEAR THAT SOMEONE HAS READ THEIR WORDS BUT IS ACTUALLY MAKING A CONSCIOUS DECISION TO IGNORE THEM OUT OF SUPERIORITY OR APATHY OR SPITE?
Other phone developer: Okay — so what will it mean, that the person is responding, and then deleting that response? Or –?
Phone developer: WE’LL NEVER TELL THEM. WE’LL MAKE THEM GUESS.
Other phone developer person: I LOVE IT.
Phone developer: ME TOO. LET’S GO SLAP SOME BABIES AND BREAK SOME HEARTS.
Ladies, eat what you want. Bread. Cakes. Houses. Entire Chickens. Chairs. As long as they are each the size of a fat tic tac, tiny you shall be, so small that you will take residence in a house the size of a book, where you will be the heroine, where you will charm the mice, defeat the dragonflies, sleep on pop tarts, your pillow a tiny loaf of bread.
Sometimes it’s like, oh noooooooo, is the earth going to fry up like an omelette, sizzle and implode, or is the moon going to suddenly shift and move and tsunami us all into floating underworld corpses, or is an incurable virus going to spread through our vitamin water or is an asteroid going to smack into the planet, raining fire over all the fields and all of the Targets, worry / worry / worry, but then you see that these are are thing:
and then it’s like, no, you right you right, COME AT US, ASTEROID, WE NO LONGER DESERVE TO BE.
As part of an ongoing effort to explore different parts of California, and force my brain to think newer and larger thoughts, I have hightailed it up to Santa Barbara for a day /night to write, by which I of course mean, go wine ‘tasting’ to the point where I am so joyful and full of Rose that all of the retired folks at the bar around me must hear my life story and I fall asleep in a facemask, surrounded by peanut M&Ms. Also known as: yesterday. But today: one stroll and one bikeride by the beach later, I already have not one but TWO half-baked television ideas about donuts, and have spent a good half an hour wondering how miraculous it is that children’s brains form, like at all, to the point where they can point at me and say, she is on a bike! And know that I am a she, and that is a Bike.
Sometimes, one must exchange one’s usual world and routine for a blue wig and spend the day frolicking around Ru Paul’s Drag Con, putting glitter all over your face, chasing around a particular queen for a picture because she bears an uncanny resemblance to your ex-boyfriend.