This is something I wrote for the upcoming show Listen to Your Mother.
The idea sucks all the air out of my body, and I come to in the middle of Trader Joe’s crying in front of butternut squash ravioli.
My momma, how will I live without my momma. I feel like I won’t. Like that is the moment when I will just stop, when I won’t feel like doing or fighting or being what I want anymore. That I will just curl up into a ball and shatter into a thousand pieces of grief. That the world around me will no longer have the depth and joy that it did.
My mom thinks this is hilarious. “Gillian you’re being over-dramatic. It’s just a part of life.”
“Jill there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m not sick. I’m just getting older.”
“I hate it!”
I come home and see grey I didn’t see before. Movements that feel slower.
What will I do? What will I do when she is gone? This woman who can scoop me up in a way no one else can. Fathers and lovers and brothers and friends can hold me tight, but she can hold me tighter. This Southern woman with a soothing cadence that says, “What is it honey?” and I know it doesn’t matter what “it” is, but just that she is and I am and that she pats me the way she always does. One two three. Rub. And I let go.
Gillian, she isn’t dying. I know! I’m just…I’m getting older too.
I want more, and I want her to hold my babies if I have them. But I feel like time is running away from me and her and all of us.
I'm on the 10 year plan. And by 10 year plan, I mean in 10 years I'm gonna say, “Shit, I forgot to have kids. Time to steal a baby.”
I mean the only way I'm going to intentionally get pregnant is by accident. Whoops! Thought my IUD was my tampon.
I want to be the movie star I know I am, in time for her to see it. And I want to be as rich as I know I will be, in time to give her things that are so expensive they seem magical. I want to come into my moment now, so I have the freedom to find more moments with her. So that I am free to scoop her up when the time comes that she needs me. So I can hold her tighter. One two three. Rub. “What is it momma?”
And then I come to in the middle of Trader Joe’s crying in front of butternut squash ravioli.
“I’m fine. I just feel strongly about winter vegetables.”
So I am a fan of curly fries, just as much as the next person. But perhaps there is a boundary to how far one should really go. Last weekend there were terrible storms in LA. As usual we had no food in our house. So the roomie and I decided to make a trip to Arby's. We debated on Panera, but Arby's was closer.
We are in line at the drive thru behind a big white van. We are watching this awning filp back and forth off the building and thinking, "Man that thing looks like it's going to fly off." A pro-active person, or perhaps a movie hero like Tom Cruise or Daniel Craig, would have probably taken some action to remove him self from the danger. We are not movie heroes, not yet anyway.
Sure enough the awning flies off the building and into the van in front of us. Pieces of building come off into the man's driver's side window, and he is just stuck there underneath this thing. This giant brown Arby's awning. You know like the kind that has a metal frame. Not little. Huge. Heavy. I being a comic start cracking jokes that this would be the perfect time for an earthquake to happen. "Doesn't that suck? How's that dude going to get out from there?" I'm looking at it just kind of dumbfounded, when the wind picks up the awning. I'm watching it fly right into my windshield, and my face. I scream. My roomie turns to see what's happening. It's like I'm in an action movie. Something is flying at me requiring action, but all I do is scream and cover my face. The awning hits my windshield, and splits in three places right down the middle. We go inside to give the woman our contact information and get the name of the manager. And the clencher, she charges us for our food. No free curlies at Arby's hell no. An Arby's can attack you but you better be ready to pay for that Beef n' Cheddar. Now, that's customer service.
And yes, they are paying for the new window, not the fries, but the window. I mean if I had to choose. I'd pick the window.
So due to the incessant boredom that comes with hours and hours of filing, I have been listening to radiolab.org at work. If you don't know radiolab is a radio show a la "This American Life", but through the filter of science. Holy hannah people, I was a little bit sad before I started listening but listening to consecutive episodes breaking down all magic things in life into a series of evolutionary or mathematical realities put me in one hell of a moody spin. I still like radiolab, but it incredible clear to me why I am not a scientist. For example, cancer that you can catch. Well Tasmanian Devils can catch to be exact, BUT who knows when it will hit humans. Or the man who could only orgasm from safety pins. WHAT?! True.
Flies that borrow in heads, suicide, and man accidentally cutting down the oldest tree ever, being alive and dead, absolutely only randomness, and on and on and on...where questions like the divine and destiny and manifestation are killed hour long scientific deaths. Sigh. Now I'm going to listen to another episode. :)
Did a showcase at Flappers last night in Burbank. I love the name of that club. Nothing make me thing of comedy like the 1920s. It was a great show and thanks to Dave Neiker for putting it on. Had a blast.
Earlier in the week I forgot what a tic tac was. I'm chalking it up to fatigue. I had to actually google "tic tak" and click on the images link to remember what a tic tak was, and even then I looked at the pictures and my brain thought, "Gillian are you sure that's a tic tak? It's not really ringing a bell." The hypochondriac part of me is convinced I have a brain disorder. The normal part of me is considering the proposition and will get back to the hydrochondriac part of me. Yep, I just typed hydrochondriac. Not hypochondriac...more evidence to be submitted.
So I went to an open mic at Cafe 212 last night. I had already hit an mic in the valley, but I was being hard core and decided to hit two. Anyhey, I get there after sign up has started and I am #25 on the list. It was 8:45pm. I was like "okay, I will get up at like 11:30. Three hours later it is time for me to go up...The girl before is about to go. I have sat through three hours of open mic comedy, which is similar to sitting through a high school pep rally, awful. I am 3 minutes away from touching the mic. When bam, the girl before me pulls out the mic from the stand and the sound system blows. She throws a fit, and refuses to do her set. The host turns and looks at me like, "What about you will please distract and keep this going?" Hell Yeah! So I waited three hours to do my set screaming at a 24 hour coffee shop. HIGHLIGHT. Reminder: I will not try and double up on mics unless they are close to my house.