Dear Carlee: a letter to my 15 year old self

Dear Carlee,

Now you are 30.

The first thing you need to know is that we didn't do it.  

Take a look at the list you've been making of all the things you plan on doing by the time you're an adult--say 30 years old--and try to understand right away that almost none of those things have gotten done.  Really hardly anything.  

I know.  It's disappointing.  You are upset.  And I'm sorry.  But I'm only sorry because it's painful for you and you are feeling hurt.  I am not sorry because I think I did anything wrong or because I have any regrets.  I don't.  

Listen, when you started making these plans for us I know that you really thought it out.  You had the best intentions and I know how confidant you felt that we could do it.  I don't think you were wrong.  A lot of things have happened between then and now, and we never could have planned for them, and being a little farther along than you I have to say that a very large part of life is bending to change, finding yourself, and embracing that the journey is a million little steps in a dozen different directions, not bullet points on a to-do list.  We've been really busy.  We haven't forgotten the goals you set, and we haven't given up, and we haven't decided they don't matter.  Not at all.  Carlee, we are trying to live life on life's terms.  The list you made was made on your terms, and that is a wonderful thing about it--that you were independent and strong enough to know exactly what you wanted and you reaffirmed that for yourself everyday.  I love that about you, I honor that about you.  You made those plans for us when you were safely inside a construct where the future meant nothing but what you imagined it to be, and that list in that time and place was the perfect thing for you to be creating.  But it cannot be our road map.  And I think part of why it is so painful for you to hear that we have not followed your road map is that for the last 15 years I have let that be the control in how we view our success.  And that is my fault.  Carlee, your plans for our success are useful reminders and motivation, but they are not healthy measurements for how well we are doing.  Unfortunately, today I am going to have to burn our list.

So here is some disappointment:

We have not starred in any feature films.  We have not had our own television show.  Sorry, we haven't even had a guest role on a television show.  We don't have anything published.  No one has made our movies, read our stories, or done our plays.  We have not had tours, reading our works for thousands of people whom we have inspired.  We don't have a rap career.  We aren't rich.  We don't own couture shoes or diamonds or a new car.  We aren't even a little well to do.  We don't vacation.  We don't have children.  We aren't married to Leonardo DiCaprio or Ryan Gosling or Matthew Lillard.  We aren't married at all.  We have not won a single award for our performance abilities.  That also means we haven't won an Oscar.  No accolades for writing, either. We aren't a member of a successful theater group.  We aren't on Saturday Night Live.  We have never done stand up comedy.  No one interviews us about our opinions on things.  We do not get VIP seating at shows.  We are not friends with Ani DiFranco.  We have not bought our parents their retirement homes.  We don't own vacation properties or a ranch in Montana.  We don't live in LA with "a little place" in New York.  We have no tangible way to prove we are helping to change the world in a positive way.  

Did I get it all? Have I missed anything? Look over it one more time.  Not one of those things has gotten done by a benchmark you so faithfully believed was far enough away that there was ample time.   So that's some bad news.  On top of which you can add: we still have acne and a jiggly belly, we suck at doing laundry and keeping things tidy, we have debt, we run late, we sleep poorly, we still have a "day job", we live in the city we grew up in, and sometimes we still feel afraid and uncertain.

But there is good news:

We have friends--actually enough people like us that there are friends we go for years without seeing but still love very much.  We are decent looking (for a while there in our mid twenties we were not feeling so certain it would work out this well).  We have dogs.  TWO dogs.  Remember how voraciously we anticipated the day we could get a dog? We went to college and it was the one we wanted and we graduated.  Our voice is in a museum.  We sing in front of other people and sometimes they seem to really like it.  We have a career, ok? We HAVE a career.  It doesn't look the way you thought it would, but I've worked really hard at it and I'm proud of it so I'd appreciate if you didn't judge our progress on that too harshly.  We are a working actor.  What you didn't quite know yet was how much "working" and how little glamour was involved.  We've kept writing and we are trying to figure that out but it's a lot harder to navigate than "writing then publishing" something, so it's taking some time.  We are healthy.  Actually, the healthiest we've ever been.  We have a healthy relationship.  The kind that you were always really hoping for but feared didn't exist?  We have that.  And he's really good looking and funny, so don't worry.  We also love ourself.  I know you don't want to hear about how hard that was to work through and you think it's a little embarrassing to share, but I have done a lot of work to get us to a place of actually enjoying who we are and believing we are ok, so just take a moment and appreciate that.  We bought a house.  We bought it with our non-celebrity handsome-man-partner and we make payments on it every month.  We have health insurance.  We have a job where we have responsibility and we feel fulfilled.  We own just a ton of clothes (more than even you imagined).  

And the best news of all:

It gets better.  We feel inspired and touched and moved all of the time.  We can openly admit that we are sensitive and that is ok--great, even.  We don't feel quite so overwhelmed by the pressure to always do the right thing.  We are available  to other people in a way not even you knew was possible because now we are also available to ourself.  We accept rejection as a daily part of what we have chosen to do, and not as a measurement of our worth.  We take more chances.  We treat ourself kindly; with compassion; with forgiveness.  We spend time alone.  We help other people and we allow them to help us.  We are a lot happier now, doing a million little steps in a dozen directions, than you are at 15 feeling so overwhelmed and anxious by all the things you are supposed to achieve.  We are excited to get older, and to see what happens next.

Let me leave you with this: Life is not a movie.  I've tried--like, really tried--and it just doesn't go that way.  Life is unceremonious change and disappointment and surprise and changing your mind and crying on the bus and trusting yourself and being present and unfiltered joy and weddings and funerals and babies being born and always learning.  Life is a journey.  You know that Dan Eldon book you are obsessed with?  The one that says "the journey is the destination"? That's true.  We are doing it right now.  We are doing it, Carlee.

So.  I know you are determined.  And I love you.  Stay determined.  I know I will.

It's been really wonderful getting to know you.  

I'm making a new list.  And it's full of things you don't really understand yet.  But when you get here, you will.

Love,

Carlee

Dear Things

I started writing a Christmas post, and then it wasn't Christmas anymore.  I started compiling a list of 12 things about 2012, and then it was the end of January.  These unfinished posts sit in my blog folder with dozens of other in-progress entries I have never bothered to finish and "publish", or whatever.  Usually I look back through them and see they are all terrible, or the moment has passed, or I have no idea what I am talking about (often), so there is no point in re-investing in them.  They just sit there, like little tiny failures, looking at me every time I sign in.  Like little tater tots making up a side dish on a plate of everything I don't follow through with.

Which just reminds me that I don't really write enough. It's a hugely important part of my life and it gets more neglected than anything else. Hell, I even floss more than I write and that's terrifying (sorry, dentist). I was telling a writer friend just yesterday that writing is something I don't know what to do with. I have never been good at writing without deadlines and accountability. And that's what my life with writing is right now: no deadlines, no accountability. It's kind of lame, really. I have three screenplays, two plays, and one novel that have all been started and just gnaw at the edge of my conscience every couple of days like dirty laundry that I really want to wear but have no energy to wash. Writing + clothes. Way to bring all the interests together.

Tonight at dinner I told the Giraffe that I haven't instagramed anything in four days. "Oh my god. What's wrong?" He shared my concern. Hi. Have you met me? I am on Instagram all the time. Arguably too much. I love that Instagram. Love that Instagram very hard. It's a thing I love to do that doesn't really matter but makes each day more enjoyable. It's not like me to neglect my 'grams. I guess other kinds of life are just happening instead. And that can't be a bad thing. Right?

I mean the point is that I haven't written in too long and that's fine because other kinds of life have been happening but I feel like I have to do it now, so here are some things that don't really matter that you can read if you want.

+ I really admire people who seem like they tirelessly work towards what they want, or manage to fit like 30 things into each day and I feel like I want to be one of them but I'm not sure that I am. I get really tired. I get really sluggish. I have to watch tv and take baths and play at least 90 minutes of solitaire or mah jong every day. I get tired just thinking about all the things some people do every day. I have a lot of energy and a strong work ethic but my energy has a daily expiration date and if I don't pace myself my work ethic gets extremely unfocused. I want to be a machine the way I see other people being glorious, productive, well oiled machines. But I'm starting to think with increasing certainty that I am the tortoise and if I am going to get "there", wherever there is, it's going to be slow and steady or nothing at all. Slow and steady is way less glamorous.

+ the terrariums I made six months ago have completely died and are now just bowls elegantly layered with rocks and dirt and moss and succulent corpses. I keep looking at them thinking I should throw them away or try again but they feel somehow permanent. Like I can't let them know they're dead. Maybe I'll just leave them alone, call them "desert terrariums" and create a new cool trend. The dried up, sparse landscape is like, a metaphor for the struggles of the modern man. Or something.

+ I have pretty much stopped showering and moved exclusively to baths. Sometimes this makes me feel like I'm living a really luxurious lifestyle and that I'm getting better at practicing relaxing (it's best purpose). Other times it makes me concerned I'm reverting, becoming some adult baby, only moments away from needing help into my jammies and drinking from a cup with a lid on it.

+ the other day I started wondering if I could put my therapist on the list of my best friends. I mean, I know I pay her, but she's like, a REALLY good listener you guys. It's like she really cares. And sometimes we high five and sometimes we both cry and sometimes we laugh so hard. We have a real time together. Make some real memories. Just kidding. Boundaries, am I right? But seriously, if I get married someday is it appropriate to invite her to the wedding? She's just so lovely.

+ there are times when I don't want to watch "good" movies or plays or read "the best" books because it makes me feel frustrated at my own progress, afraid of my own future, and depressed at my current station in life. Gross honest truth. One of my biggest fears is being an old woman who never did the things she set out to do, sitting on a pile of past-due bills, in 30 yr old sweat pants with the crotch blown out, with kids that never call, eating turkey chili from the can because fuck it it's just cold chili, wearing foundation that's three shades too dark, watching television and just weeping at movie trailers, shouting "IT COULDA BEEN MEEEEE!". I feel like watching good films should inspire me, and it does, sometimes, but I have to be honest that it is not all the time. Sometimes you just have to watch "bridezillas season 7" on Netflix watch instantly again and again.

+ the "Golden Girls" theme song lowers my heart rate. One of my goals for 2013 is to get better at relaxing and this show might be my gateway. As soon as the opening credits start and that song comes on my face cracks into a smile and my bones turn to jelly and everything gets all warm and cozy and I know that it's all going to be ok. I am fairly certain this is a universal feeling and am surprised I never learned about the healing properties of Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia, and Rose in any of my college studies.

+ when you don't want to decorate your home in a way that is too "on trend" and in danger of needing to be redecorated in a year or two, your best bet is to go with swans. Swans are timeless.

+ one of the greatest mysteries in life is what dogs are thinking. Do you know what I mean? I spend so much time talking with my dogs, and petting them, inferring that we are having some sort of meaningful interaction. But what goes on in there? Can they hear you? Is it like that Simpsons episode where it's all "blah blah blah"? Are they like stroke victims where they can understand what you're saying they just can't communicate back? I don't know. We have no idea. So I just keep saying supportive and communicative things like "you are a really important guy" "thank you for doing such a good job showing love and kindness" and "have I told you lately that you are the best? You are excellent at being you" because, well, better safe than sorry.

EDIT: this has sat in my drafts pile for two weeks. Would Alanis Morrisette categorize that as ironic? I'm publishing it now, because, well, follow through.