Some may take the long-form approach to revealing the inner workings of the present partially busted beating heart. Order up some middle distance staring with a newly cooler breeze from the north, old flannel trip to the Goodwill for upcoming DIY Renaissance Fair costuming with a side of angst over aging parents, lostness unrelated to longitude and latitude, the price of corn and how to live 25 years before its your turn to get it.
I’ve written that version so many times and you, dear reader, have read it. You probably have questions. Rest assured- so do I. So. Do. I.
But for now. Let’s just list it. Here’ s the status update, nerds, as told through pop culture, food cravings and playlists:
Sneaky Pete. I’m obsessed. With all of it. Giovanni Ribisi, Margo Martindale, slang words for con jobs, wondering if there will be a fourth season. Why he wears that knee length overcoat only when he’s being himself and not doing a con. So many questions. I’ve watched it twice all the way through so far. I would like to see Giovanni Ribisi act in more things.
Donuts. When I was in California I ate two donuts- both Old Fashioneds- both incredibly delicious and now I’m dreaming of donuts all the time. Not eating them, just thinking about them and how great the world is, even in hellscape, when there are donuts to be had.
Listening: Japanese Breakfast, Ruston Kelly, Kacey Musgraves new record (coincidence, I think not), Gregory Alan Isakov, Enya in the afternoons. When I was alone at my parents house cleaning up the kitchen while my dad was at the YMCA and my mom was in the nursing home, then memory care, I asked Alexa to play Gregory Alan Isakov. When in doubt, always Gregory. And I’d scrub the sink and cry. The rules are no one can see you cry. Especially when you’re being the strong one who needs nothing ever from anyone ever because the lesson in this world is no one will ever help you, you get to take the moments when no one sees you while wiping down counter to cry. Also airplanes surrounded by strangers is where I do my best crying. Thank God for masks.
Will being on Spotify playlists increase my listenership? Do I pay a guy to help me get on playlists? Yesterday I said yes. Today, my gut says no. I am ashamed to admit that looking to my left and my right at artists doing really well and taking off around me has left me sadder than normal. I thought writing good songs would do the trick, but the trick has way more moving parts. Like a con job. I could be a confidence man. Right now, I’m a songwriter.
Dye my hair? Shave it off? Give up? I got it cut in California- shorter than I had expected. It’s either my haircut from third grade or charmingly curly and weird OR (and this is the worst one) straight up middle aged mom hair. One of the those. A dear friend mailed me a package containing a dress and a treasure trove of dangly earrings the likes of which I’ve never had. It took my earring collection from three to 30. Way more than I’ve ever had ever. Of course, not wanting to actually enjoy a beautiful gift, I go into the, “Is it OK for me to wear lovely earrings every day?” If I went with my normal mode, they’d join all the dresses and lovely things I’m saving for a special occasion that will never come. (I DID wear them yesterday and it was awesome, though)
Who would be on your dream Board of Directors? Like, who would be your close circle of contacts that would foster an energy and vibe that would inevitably inspire you and your life to shoot right through your uninsured roof? It’s a fun one to think on. And, as an Enneagram 4, it’s good to do as a solution to my two poisonous enemies: comparison and the idea that there’s something seriously wrong with me that makes me disqualified from ever belonging anywhere ever except for heaven.
And finally Marbella, Spain, Granada, Flowers and candles, outdoor dinners on a Tuscan patio, playing songs with my friends, credit cards, getting a job maybe?, Natalie Hemby, writer’s block, removing wallpaper, finally drywalling the basement, new calendar, fall, campfires, sweater weather, harvest, Sambal, cilantro, house plants, area rugs, dream curtains, decluttering, the black silk shawl with red embroidered roses in my closet whispering that someday I might wear it under a star-filled sky where there are candles, flowers, a friend softly playing, a night breeze and a bottle of wine and all will be right with the world and someone will get donuts the next morning.
Lots of love to you on this Wednesday. We’re all in this together. Be nice to yourself. -H