Midnight Thoughts on Fried Brains

My brain is fried. Maybe my heart is a little bit, too, but mostly my brain, I think.

I don't know why the hell I'm writing. It's early by my bedtime standards (11:45) but I've been tired for two weeks straight. I should go to sleep. But as a fellow MFA student said this quarter, "I write because it makes me feel better." And maybe I want to feel better. Think better? I don't know.

This is going to be a little all over the place. Apologies in advance for any failings of grammar.

Here's why my brain is fried:

Because of the Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival, wherein I perform a 15-minute monologue, three times in a row, while two other people are talking at the same time. And that takes a lot of energy. And it took a lot of energy in rehearsal, and it takes a lot of energy to perform. (It's also awesome, and one of the things that keeps me anchored, and I love being a part of this awesome thing with awesome people.) (And hey, come see "Punxsutawney" at the Fringe Factory, Friday @ 10:30 pm, Saturday @ 3:00 and 6:00!)

Because school started again, and somehow we're already 4 weeks into the quarter? That's a third of the way done. So I've got reading and writing and critiquing and discussion board posting always on my mind.

Because auditions for a show with PYGmalion are coming up, and I've gotta memorize this monologue.

Because I had to fill out all this paperwork and send all these emails to see if I could qualify for a little bit more financial aid to help me make ends meet while I finish school. (Finally got the additional financial aid--yay!)

Because divorce and legal name change and blah blah blah.

Because I get to see all this amazing theatre as part of the Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival, which I'm currently obsessed with. But also, it's exhausting.

Because I am certainly not ready to step into the dating world again, but I can feel the water of it inching towards my toes, occasionally washing right over my feet, and I'm not sure if I remember how to swim and I thought I had found a lifeboat in the form of marriage, but now I don't have the lifeboat but I'm also not ready to swim, so it's like I'm trying to build my own lifeboat WHILE I'm trying not to drown? (I don't know if this metaphor works, but I'll revisit it in the morning or sometime later when my brain isn't fried.)

Because one of my bosses was gone all last week, and we've got this HUGE project that has all of these different parts, and I've driven 45 miles running errands and it's my job so I'm happy to do it, but it's just occupying a lot of headspace. I sometimes have time at work to do homework, but that's definitely out nowadays.

Because of the insanity of making travel plans for August and September.

Because it's been like 100 degrees all week and while I'd rather be too hot than too cold, the heat makes it hard to function.

Because of trying to figure out how to balance self-respect and expressing my thoughts and feelings with respecting others' desires and thoughts and feelings, and not sacrificing one for the other, which is like, really complicated. (Good thing I have awesome friends like Carrie to give me awesome advice.)

Anyway, I'm tired all the time. So when I get a second, I just binge-watch Mad Men and eat ice cream and do art. I suppose it would be more productive to take a nap or something, but I'm always afraid I won't sleep well later, so I stay awake to try to ensure a good night's sleep. (Spoiler alert: it hasn't worked.)

If I've been weird (like, weirder than normal), thanks for your patience while I'm trying to get my head back on straight. I've got a marathon of a weekend to get through, but I should be able to breathe again by Monday.

That lifeboat analogy is feeling more and more applicable, and not just to dating.

But what do I know? My brain is fried.

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Midnight Thoughts on Fried Brains

The Social Justice Perfectionist

It's a tough time to be an INFJ.

That's a "Meyers Briggs" personality type, and it's "pop psychology," which can only be trusted so much. But in my case, it's pretty damn accurate. You can read more about it here, but basically, the nickname for this personality type is "The Advocate." INFJ's are deeply sensitive people who feel a strong moral obligation to create fairness for all.

And at this point in American history, "fairness for all" is feeling pretty threatened.

I don't know how to talk about this without sounding like an insufferable, self-righteous jerk. So you'll just have to like, trust that I'm not sharing these things to somehow prove how good of a human I am. I have to talk about it because it's the premise to this entire blog entry.

Because here's what's going on. I'm EXHAUSTED. I'm tired of explaining systemic racism to friends on Facebook. I'm tired of defending my place in the Women's March. I'm tired of making phone calls to senators whose voicemail boxes are always full. I'm tired of checking Twitter/Facebook/any news website, and finding something else that terrifies me and breaks my heart and demands some call to action. I am mentally and emotionally overwhelmed. I need a break.

And I feel like I can't take one. I feel like the whole fragile world is collapsing, and I've got to do my part to keep it upright. I know I'm not single-handedly holding it up. I am CERTAIN that I'm not that important. But I feel like if I let go, if I walk away, even for a moment, it forces everyone else to work harder to keep it all up. I'm making other people do my work. And it just feels so selfish.

Here's what's always in the back of my mind:

How can I walk away when people are fighting for their lives?! I have a moral obligation, as a human being, to fight for the equality of all human beings. I want history to show that I did that.

Now let's talk about the fact that I deal with anxiety and depression. My anxiety manifests itself most often in perfectionism. That perfectionism is a double-edged sword...I feel like a lot of the success I've had in my life has come from my relentless desire to do things really well. My perfectionism is what drives me to make to-do lists, and organize office drawers, and rehearse with intensity. A desire to do things well can be healthy and productive. But there's also a dark side to that perfectionism...at it's heart, perfectionism says, "I HAVE TO do this, because if I don't, no one will love me."

So here's the mental loop I've had buzzing in my head/heart since Inauguration Day:

"These laws and practices and ideas are dangerous. I need to fight them because I care deeply about the world around me!" 
"This inspires me! Look at all these other people doing awesome things! I'm so glad I can do things like march and make phone calls and stand up for what I believe on the internet." 
"This is getting tiring. I don't know how to explain this to people in a way that will make them understand."
"I am exhausted. I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much to do this in the face of so much adversity and criticism." 
"I'm going to take a break." 
"But how unfair is it that you CAN take a break?! Other people can't! Why should they pick up your slack because you were 'too tired' to post that reply?"
"You're being so crappy right now. The world needs your voice. You need to do your part." 

There's no clear order to these thoughts...I cycle through them all at varying speeds and for varying durations. In general, I swing back and forth between feeling obligated to fight for truth and fairness, and feeling obligated to save my own sanity.

Jacob has a beautiful habit of asking me how I am, in a way that shows that he really wants to know the answer. If I answer, "Fine," he'll usually say, "Are you really?" And I try to truly be honest. I don't want to play mind games. But I've lacked the words lately to explain how overwhelmed I've been.

Because the other thing is that I also need to just...live my life. I need to go to work and file the things and clean the bathroom and do my homework and perform the show and prepare for the auditions and text the friends. And I WANT to do those things. I CARE about those things. And sometimes life is stressful enough trying to balance JUST THOSE THINGS, without the additional weight of trying to fight fascism in the highest offices of one of the most powerful countries on earth. But how stupid and selfish of me to be like, "Hold up, I can't make this phone call to express my concern about a WHITE NATIONALIST holding a position of power in the United States government, because I have to fold my laundry."

I have wondered briefly if theatre is frivolous in these troubled times. But I know it's not. Whether political or personal or comedic, theatre is a tool for such good. Theatre is one of the greatest teachers of empathy I know of, and empathy is what leads to fairness and equality and the world generally being a better place. And if the show is a ridiculous comedy, then it gives people an emotional boost, to just sit and laugh for an hour or two, so that they can then go out and do good in the world. For as long as I live, I will be so grateful that the show I did right before the election was "Cabaret," and the show I did after the election was "The Nerd." Both hold such an important place in fighting injustice.

Cognitively, I recognize the need for self-care. I mean, I just said that it's valuable to just sit and laugh for an hour or two to recharge. I know that in theory, everyone needs to take care of themselves so that they can be a force for good in the world. I won't be much help to a social cause from a padded cell. But I'm a perfectionist, remember? I need to be better than everyone else. I shouldn't need breaks. I shouldn't need re-charge time. I should just be able to do it--to marathon this sucker until it's finished. I have a MORAL OBLIGATION to marathon my way through this. Other people have to because they have more skin in this game, and I'm a hypocrite if I SAY I fight for these causes, and then watch Netflix for hours and hours.

Writing this out has been helpful. But I think I need to make a solid plan of action. I need to figure out what I can change and what I can't, and come up with practical strategies. I need concrete things I can do and say that will help me find balance. Advice like, "Remember to take care of your mental health" is too vague. I don't know that this blog is the time and place to make that solid plan of action in detail, but because it's helpful to write it out, here are a few ideas. I may not use all of them...I'm just sort of brainstorming here. Feel free to use these in your own life if you need to, and I'd welcome any strategies you all have to stay sane.

HOW TO STAY SANE WHEN EVERYTHING IS THE WORST: A FEW IDEAS

1) Limit time on social media. This is a source of a lot of anxiety for me right now. I do want to remain informed, so I don't want to cut myself off. But limiting my time there may be a helpful way for me to get the info I need without overwhelming me. Maybe I could limit to a certain number of hours per day/week, or have days when I don't go on social media, or have social media "black out" hours.

2) Schedule time in for social causes. Sometimes the desperate need to contribute to the social good sort of looms over me. I can schedule in time during my week/month/day to specifically concentrate on researching issues, donating to causes, attending meetings/marches/protests, making phone calls, etc. Doing this will allow me to contribute in meaningful ways without overwhelming me. It allows me to cross off "stand up for what's right" on my empath and perfectionist checklist, but it also allows me time to heal and recuperate if needed.

3) If things are bad, use healthy coping mechanisms. Yoga, meditation, cleaning/organizing, exercise, walks. Sometimes, cake and Netflix can be healthy, too, even. All things in moderation.

4) Use positive self-talk. This is a cognitive-behavioral therapy technique (which is real psychology, as opposed to pop psychology). It involves tuning in to what your inner monologue is, and creating positive counter statements. I can write a handful of these statements and post them where I can see them often. I can repeat them to myself when I need to interrupt the negative thought loops my brain gets stuck in. (If you're interested in learning more about this, I highly recommend the books "The Anxiety and Phobia Workbook" and "Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway.")

5) Take time to surround yourself with positive and hopeful things. I was so inspired by the powerful things I saw and heard during the Women's March. I'm bolstered by the efforts of others around me. Reminding myself of the progress that has been made will help me to move forward.



Okay. Keep on walking, Chapman. Deep breaths. Fist raised, heart held soft and grounded.

We can do this.

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The Social Justice Perfectionist

Mourning

We made it into 2017, everyone!

There’s been a lot of talk about how 2016 was kind of the worst year ever. And I know that’s purely subjective. There were definitely years in human history that were worse, and there were definitely really awesome things about 2016. I think the insanity of the U.S. election sort of colored everything else that happened—we were all seeing the world through these terrible red/blue-tinted glasses that made everything ELSE feel terrible. (I don’t think red/blue-tinted glasses are always terrible, but they sure felt that way this year.) There’s something to be said for a positive attitude, but even I have to admit that 2016 was a rough year.

But I want to talk specifically about the celebrity deaths of 2016. And why it’s 100% valid to mourn them in whatever way you need to.

During this past week, I overheard a conversation that went something like this:

“I’m really sad about Carrie Fisher.”
“But you didn’t know Carrie Fisher.”
“But I’m still going to miss her.”
“But you didn’t know her!”

The general sentiment is that it doesn’t make sense to mourn the deaths of celebrities we don’t know. Other arguments against mourning celebrity deaths include the fact that we should be mourning the deaths of soldiers/civilians/children/animals/etc, that you’re just mourning because everyone else is and you’re not even a real fan, or that their contributions weren’t valuable.

I’m calling BS. On all of that.

Of course most of us didn’t personally know Carrie Fisher. Most of us don’t personally know any of the celebrities whose deaths we are mourning. But many of these people invited us in to know them by living a public life, or by creating works of music and writing. I know that a public life and a private life are often two very different things. But the public life can still be inspiring.

Regarding the deaths of soldiers and civilians and children and the many other thousands of humans that have died this year: OF COURSE THAT SUCKS. Death just sucks. It’s an unavoidable part of the human experience, but it still sucks. Each life lost should be mourned. But I think the difference is that my own personal life wasn’t as deeply or directly affected by the deaths of many of those others. Yes, I understand that a soldier giving up their life in the line of duty often helps maintain the freedom I sometimes take for granted. And I am grateful for the sacrifices made on my behalf. I ache for the families of those who have lost loved ones to war, to cancer, to poverty, to disease. I ache for that loss of life. But my mourning the death of a celebrity doesn’t have to diminish the meaning of someone else’s death.

And I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a horrible person, but the truth is that Edward Albee’s life and work personally and directly affected my life in a different way than the death of a nameless soldier. I mourn the loss of Edward Albee more than the loss of other strangers simply because I know exactly how he changed my life. I will feel it more personally and more often. It’s more measurable.

If we were to truly mourn every death, we’d all end up in padded rooms somewhere. It’s too much to process that much loss. The human psyche can only take so much. I think sometimes the sorrow we feel for celebrity deaths also includes sorrow for all of the nameless…like we channel some of the despair of the world into the black armbands we wear for the singers and actors and writers who leave us.

And the whole “you’re just mourning because everyone else is and you weren’t really a fan” thing? IT DOESN’T MATTER. Let people mourn, even if you think they’re faking. Let people connect over stuff. Your sorrow doesn’t have to be more legitimate than anyone else’s—this is not a competition. I didn't know much about Prince before he died. But I was deeply inspired by everything I learned about him in the aftermath of his death, and it made me sad we won't have more of him.

As for whether or not the contributions of a celebrity are valuable, that’s in the eye of the beholder. There were some celebrity deaths this year that didn’t affect me very deeply. But there were others that did. I think each human being brings something utterly unique to this earth, and sometimes their contributions get to be widely shared. And when those contributions are meaningful to you or me, their loss is something to mourn. I’m still sad about Ray Bradbury—there will never be another like him. There will never be another story written by that man, in his voice, from his imagination. That’s a loss I still ache to think of, and it’s been almost five years. His dedication and imagination have been a huge part of why I’ve done NaNoWriMo, why I’m doing an MFA in Creative Writing. His books and stories allowed me to escape when I needed to. I know I didn’t personally know Ray Bradbury, and I know he didn’t sacrifice his life for my freedom. But I mourn the fact that the world, and my own life, will no longer read new words penned by his hand.

Many of the celebrity deaths I have mourned this year have left lasting contributions. And I can thank them for those things even as I mourn the fact that they have left us—that there’s a cap on what they brought to the world. So I mourn them.

David Bowie and Prince, thank you for rejecting toxic masculinity. Thank you for being fiercely yourselves, for blazing trails in music. Bowie, thank you for your prolific and ever-shifting career. Prince, thank you for your musical mastery and for being a delightful and enigmatic human.

Alan Rickman and Gene Wilder, thank you for the honesty and humor with which you approached your work. Thank you for Galaxy Quest and Willy Wonka and Severus Snape and Young Frankenstein. Thank you for your passion and dedication.

John Glenn, thank you for being brave enough to put on that suit, climb into that metal contraption and allow yourself to be shot into space. Almost infinite horizons have opened to the entire human race because of your work.

Harper Lee, thank you for “To Kill A Mockingbird,” and the simple lessons it has taught for generations. And thank you, too, for “Go Set A Watchman,” and the harsher, more complicated lessons it teaches. I hope we learn that it’s not as simple as Atticus made it seem.

Edward Albee, thank you for giving so much to the world of theatre—for your fierce and life-changing words. Leonard Cohen, thank you for the music. Debbie Reynolds, you have inspired generations of singers and dancers. I spent hours in my garage and in dance studios and in my living room, learning the steps you danced on that silver screen. You were the lucky star for so many.

And Carrie Fisher. You intelligent, talented, brave, funny, honest woman. Thank you for showing the world that a woman can be both a princess and a war general. Thank you for teaching Hollywood to make the women smarter. Thank you for your honesty in dealing with mental illness and addiction. Thank you for reminding us that good looks are happy accidents of time and genetics and nothing more. Thank you for not giving any f***s.

And there are others that I felt pangs about, even if their lives weren’t inspiring to me in the same ways. Kenny Baker. Muhammed Ali. Elie Wiesel. Ron Glass.

(Ugh, it was awful to make this list.)

I am so so so grateful that I get to live in a world where the works of talented and brave and smart individuals can be spread far and wide. I'm grateful for the lives these men and women led, and I am better for what they brought into the world. So mourn them with me, if you need to. Or don't, if you don't need to. But know that it's perfectly valid to be sad that their lives are over.

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Mourning

What It Means

In the week following the election, I had this strange kind of "reactive mutism." I couldn't figure out how to say what I was thinking or feeling, so I just didn't really say anything for a little while.

I tried to write about the election when it first happened. That blog entry is a jumbled, emotional mess, so I left it in drafts while I processed everything. I'm still processing, and this is the best I could do when it comes to organizing my thoughts.

As an American, as a Christian, as the granddaughter of immigrants, as a survivor of sexual assault, as an environmentalist, and yes, as a woman, I cried myself to sleep over the election results.

Electing leaders is a matter of evaluating both character, experience, and policy. Trump's character is mercurial, narcissistic, unpredictable, dishonest, and thoughtless. He has no political experience, and his experience as a businessman has been fraught with bankruptcies and failure to pay the people he has hired. His policies are marginalizing and harmful to people who have been marginalized and harmed for decades.

Clinton's character is level-headed, thoughtful, and intelligent. The email "scandal" is the result of technological ineptitude, not criminal intent. She has spent a lifetime in civil service. Her policies are well-researched, and do the most good for the most people. 

And America chose Trump. A reality-television "star" who has used fear as one of his main campaign weapons. And even if something happens and Trump is impeached or resigns, Mike Pence will be in office, and he worries me, too.

 Everything feels wrong, and it feels like nothing will fix it.

A friend said that she woke up the morning  after the election, it was like waking up after a really bad breakup. You have a few moments of peace before remembering what happened and then it hits you again...all the heartbreak. It's like a bad dream that you can't wake up from.

 There's a part of me that hears the faint strains of a fiddle being played while the country burns.

And before anyone accuses me of whining because my candidate didn't win, let's get something out of the way right now. This is more than just partisanship. I have been disappointed in elections before. I've been sad when people whose policies I disagree with are elected to office. But this is different. This was the first female nominee who has a lifetime of civil service vs. a man who has zero political or military experience. You may have been disappointed when Obama took office, because maybe you disagreed with his economic policies or his healthcare plan or his budget recommendations. I'm disappointed that both Congress and the Presidency will be Republican, since I'm a Democrat.

But never before has the President-elect: made so many false claims during his campaign, advocated war crimes, said women should be punished for abortions, urged violence at rallies, mocked a reporter's physical disability, called for a ban on members of an entire religion entering the U.S., described climate change as a hoax perpetuated by China, called Mexican immigrants rapists, disparaged someone's military service because they were captured, praised the poor treatment of Japanese-Americans in America during WW2, praised a North Korean dictator, not paid his bills as a businessman, bragged about sexual assault, been praised by multiple white supremacy groups, discussed the size of his penis in a Presidential debate, lied about charitable donations, said that "laziness is a trait in blacks," been a plaintiff in almost 2,000 lawsuits, been accused of sexual assault, made multiple disparaging remarks about women (pumping breastmilk, menstruation, looks), and more. Any one of those things should have been an end to it. Any one of those things should have shut the whole thing down. Even if he's apologized or recanted, the thing about words is that once they're said, they're said. Do not compare the dismay I'm feeling to disappointment at losing.

(And before anyone accuses me of media bias, some of the links I provided are through media companies, but the primary sources are not hard to find, nor do they refute any of the things reported. It's not my job to do your research for you. I'm just providing jumping off points.)

I know that a lot of Americans are in a really tough place right now. For example, Detroit got completely screwed by the auto industry. The closing of coal mines and manufacturing plants throughout the U.S. have put a lot of people in a desperate place. Trump talked a lot about rising crime rates, even though he was completely wrong about them. Donald Trump offers hope and policy that speaks to people who feel afraid or disenfranchised, even if he might not be able to follow through. Cracked had a great article that explained the appeal of Trump for so many people. But all of that stuff? That's not a good enough excuse. Because your economic situation is a result of your circumstances. They can be changed, even if it's really difficult. Being Muslim, being black, identifying as a woman--those things can't be changed. For some of you who voted for Trump, it looks for all the world like you traded the safety and value of Muslims, people of color, and women...for a job.

All of this means we haven't come as far as I thought we'd come. I know that not all Trump voters are racist, xenophobic, or sexist. But even if they aren't, they were willing to overlook those things in their nominee, and that's just as big of a problem. Which means the country I love is not as thoughtful or kind as I believed.

Liberal vs. conservative is rarely about "right" vs. "wrong"...it's more often a question of what people value more. And I'm dismayed to learn that fewer people than I realized value diversity and equity and kindness. Or at least, it seems like they don't value those things as much as I thought people did. 

I'm always wary of hyperbolic or highly emotional posts about politics. I try to counter my emotional reactions with rational thought. But I am disturbed in both mind and heart. I am deeply troubled that the majority of the people in this country are willing to risk the lives and safety of so many others for what they want. I know there are still tens of thousands of kind, thoughtful, good people. (And I'm sure that many Trump supporters are also kind, and thoughtful, and good.) But it's heartbreaking and terrifying that there are so many who were willing to put a demagogue in power--someone who has not demonstrated kindness or thoughtfulness or goodness.

My mom sent me this inspiring email on the morning of the election, about what it means to her personally that we have a woman on the ballot for President. Before the election results came in, I sat at my desk at work and cried at the beauty of what it means to have a woman President. I cried for Susan B. Anthony and for the Equal Rights Amendment and for the generations of women who weren't encouraged to have a career. I agreed with Hillary Clinton's policies and trusted her character, which are the main reasons I voted for her. But I also couldn't escape the beautiful symbolism of her candidacy.

Listen, I know things will be "fine." I am inspired by the messages of hope and love and yes, anger and disappointment. That anger and disappointment assures me that there are still so many good people in the world, and the hope and love they're willing to share reminds me to be better and kinder and to not let my sorrow make evil of me. I know that America will recover from whatever possible disaster happens over the next four years. That's not what I'm worried about. I'm worried about the COST. I'm worried not about the ultimate fate of this country. I'm worried about the casualties.

I'm worried about Planned Parenthood. I'm worried about the Environmental Protection Agency. I'm worried about health insurance. I'm worried about foreign relations with Cuba, with Russia, with Mexico, with the Middle East. I'm worried about race relations in America. I'm worried about the Dakota Access Pipeline. I'm worried about the Muslims in our country and throughout the world. I'm worried about survivors of sexual harassment and assault--if they see what our President could "get away with," it sends the message that they won't be listened to and that perpetrators won't suffer consequences.

People always say, "It could never happen here" when they talk about political disasters. But I'm sure that's what ancient Rome said. I'm sure that's what Germany said. And while America does have legal and cultural checks in place to prevent our own self-destruction, we did put over 100,000 Japanese Americans in camps less than 100 years ago. There are people alive today who were interred by their own government simply for being Japanese.

I don't know how we'll explain to our children what happened. I don't want to be a fear monger. But I also don't want to ignore what are potentially really really really big problems. Don't tell me we need to come together. I know we do. But I refuse to ignore the real problems of people of color and women and Muslims in this country.

I deeply admire those who are patient and forgiving of those who spread hate and fear and ignorance, even while fighting it. I'm not there yet. I'm working on it. This is why I haven't spoken a lot about the election during the last week--I'm still hurting too much, and I don't know how to be patient and forgiving without feeling like I'm abandoning my principles of standing up for those who need defending. When I say "I forgive those who spread hate and fear and ignorance," it feels a lot like I'm saying that what they did or said is okay. And it's not. I've got plans for how to deal with it when I witness harassment. I'll continue to participate in marches and rallies and protests. Right now, I'm just concentrating on letting my anger/hurt/disappointment take the Martin Luther King, Jr. route, instead of the Malcom X route. Because I know that ultimately, letting feelings make decisions is what got us into this mess.

I have hope, but I'm exhausted just thinking about the next four years. SaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSaveSave

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What It Means

Safety vs. hurt feelings

Listen up, guys.

I sat at a restaurant in town today, by myself. I do this a lot--go out to eat alone. I do a lot of writing and reading at restaurants by myself. But today's experience was marred by an overly attentive waiter. Normally, I wouldn't write about that, but the specific kind of attention I received from this waiter was not okay in my book. The problem is that it wasn't okay, but it also wasn't the kind of thing I can complain to the manager about.

It's the kind of thing I can blog about, though. Because I think it represents a larger problem in our society, the problem of respecting the personal boundaries of women, especially when they are alone.

(Disclaimer: I know nothing about this waiter. He could be on the Autism Spectrum and have a hard time picking up social cues. He could be an introvert who hates his job and compensates by being overly friendly. I don't know. But I wish society as a whole would have taught him how to respect my boundaries as a woman ALONE in a restaurant. He may not have been intentionally threatening. But the entire reason I'm writing this is to help the men around me understand when their actions ARE threatening and how to avoid that.)

So I sit down in a booth. Waiter comes by, probably in his early twenties, and takes my order. Comments on what I order, telling me I made a good choice, normal friendly waiter stuff. He walks away. I pull out my book and start reading. A few minutes later, the waiter comes by again.

"What are you reading?" he asks.

Okay. This is how you can tell a reader from a non-reader. Non-readers think they're making friendly conversation with this question. Readers understand that you're READING and would prefer not to be interrupted. So I'm already annoyed at being interrupted.

"The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up," I reply.

"So it's a book to help people develop OCD?" he jokes. Cool, a joke about mental illness to someone you don't know. I give a courtesy laugh and attempt to return to my book. "Women," he says. I look up to see him shaking his head and smiling. "All women have OCD. They always want to tidy everything. Women, women, women." I feel vaguely annoyed that he's used my gender as the butt of a joke that isn't really funny, or true. But hell, I don't know this kid, and I don't want to be mean, so I give another non-smiling courtesy laugh and wait for him to go away.

A different waitress brings me my food and I can eat and read in peace for a few minutes before the waiter comes by again. "Everything all right, ma'am?" "Yes, thank you," I say. I don't look up. I'm still reading. I'm polite in my voice, but I'm trying to signal that I'd just like to be left alone with my book please. He keeps talking. "Well, I'll want a read aloud when I come back, okay?" Like, you want me to read to you? In what context? Here in this booth? In your car? What does that even mean? He winks. I conceal a shudder, because I don't KNOW you, dude.

I finish my meal, order a dessert. Again, another waitress brings it out. I'm two bites in when I hear the waiter's voice again. "Hey, where's MY spoon?" he asks, eyeing my dessert. I keep my eyes on my book. "Yeah, sorry, this is all for me," I reply.

He sits in the booth next to me.

Did you read that? He sits in the booth next to me. I am literally physically trapped in a corner. I am alone in this restaurant, in a corner booth, with a strange man blocking me in. For the men reading this, here's what you need to understand about this moment: This waiter is "Schrodinger's Rapist." This is a man who may or may not try to sexually assault me. I have no way of knowing what his intentions are. If you suggest I should give him the benefit of the doubt, then you are valuing his potentially hurt feelings over my personal physical and emotional safety. His potentially hurt feelings = a rough day. Me being sexually assaulted = a trauma that is also illegal. As Margaret Atwood once said, "Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them."

So I'm trapped in this booth, refusing to look up at this waiter who has invaded my personal space, and I don't have any way of knowing if he will next make a joke, or try to put his hand on my upper thigh. He doesn't do either; he places the check on the table and says he'll be back to pick it up again in a minute. He continues to sit next to me for a few more seconds. "So do you want this on a single check, or split...?" he asks. I don't think I even answer. "Yeah, I'm just kidding. Single check." Then he stands up and leaves, and I feel my shoulders relax a little bit.

I pay the bill and leave.

Here's the problem with all of this. All of these interactions are walking a fine line between friendly waiter banter and flirtation. In my professional opinion, you shouldn't flirt with your patrons at all if you're a waiter, but whatever. What you definitely SHOULDN'T do, however, is sit next to a strange woman who is sitting alone in a restaurant without an invitation. Especially if you're a waiter. Because you're in a position of slightly more power--I don't feel like I can call another waiter over and say, "Excuse me, this man is bothering me." I'd be saying, "Hey, your friend is a creep" and then everyone would be embarrassed.

But it's a moment that really sucked. Because in that moment, I did not feel flattered. I did not feel like I was getting positive romantic attention. I felt trapped. Because I WAS trapped. If he had attempted to touch me or assault me or harass me in any way, it would have been very very difficult for me to escape. So I'm left to assume one of two things: either he was aware of this, and decided that what he wanted was more important; OR he wasn't aware of this.

So I'm writing this blog entry for all those who aren't aware of this. Because you need to be aware of this. The article on "Schrodinger's Rapist" linked above is an excellent, more in depth version of this same lesson, and I highly recommend you read it, but here's the Reader's Digest version:

WHEN INTERACTING WITH STRANGE WOMEN, ASK YOURSELF, "IF I WERE DANGEROUS, WOULD THIS WOMAN BE SAFE IN THIS SITUATION WITH ME? Would she physically be able to escape? Does she have friends who can help her?" If the answer is NO, then change what you need to in order to create safety for this woman. Even if it means leaving her alone to read her book at a table in a restaurant. Because even though YOU know you're not dangerous, SHE doesn't know that. You can blame all the other skeazy men who have ruined things for the rest of you. But this is the world we live in. Many women spend time every single day calculating their risks. You men need to understand this, and do what you can to make it better for us. And you can do that not by approaching strange women and attempting to convince them that you're the good guy. You can do that by making sure that the women around you feel (and are) safe.

Women tend to respect the men who make them feel safe even more than they respect the men who make them feel admired.

"But Liz, come on! He was just trying to be nice! Give him the benefit of the doubt!" Have you not been reading? I'd really like to, but unfortunately, that's not a risk I can afford to take.

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Safety vs. hurt feelings

Don't be a snob.

I downloaded Pokemon Go this weekend. Jacob and I spent part of our 6-year-anniversary wandering around a park in Sugarhouse, catching pokemon and collecting poke balls and incubating eggs and trading duplicate Pokemon to Professor Willow for candy. I was never into Pokemon as a kid, so this hasn't been the same "childhood dream come true" for me that it has been for some people. But it's still been awesome.

But I've seen some folks on the internet who feel it's their duty to spread things like this:

Or who keep perpetuating blatantly false stories about how Pokemon Go caused a major traffic accident. Or who take to Twitter to announce their disdain for the game.
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To which I say:

You guys.YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE INTO POKEMON GO. But that doesn't make you superior to other people. It doesn't mean you're better than other people. It means you're DIFFERENT from other people. It means you have different tastes and interests. OTHER PEOPLE PLAYING POKEMON GO DOESN'T MAKE YOUR LIFE WORSE.

In fact, the phenomenon is making life better for a lot of people. It's helping people overcome social anxiety and depression. It's allowing people to connect with one another. It's helping people explore their worlds. It's creating bonding opportunities for friends and family members. In a huge way, it's reminding people that we're all part of this big, huge, human family. I can go to a public park, and complete strangers can call out, "Are you a Pokemon trainer?" and we can all sit in the grass together doing this silly thing that connects us as people.

And if ever we needed something that connected us, it's now. It's been a rough year or so. (Decade?) Trump continues to gain popularity despite the fact that he has repeatedly done and said things that are blatantly racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, and anti-Semitic. ISIS continues to destroy lives and monuments. Black men continue to be killed by police officers. Our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are still not safe. So if there's something as harmless as a game that effectively brings huge amounts of people together, despite race, class, gender, political party, religion, or sexual orientation? Let's grab that and run with it.

Or at the very least, let other people grab it and run with it, even if you're not interested.

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Don't be a snob.

Thwarted Plans

Here's why yesterday was a bummer.

The first part of the day was just one of those dumb days when little things just keep going wrong. The store doesn't have the one thing you're looking for, you can't load the podcast you want to listen to, and you hit every single possible red light. One of those days.

But then, that night, I finally got around to opening my financial aid letter.

Wait. Lemme back up.

So, I'm getting my MFA in Writing right now, through an online program. I started in January, and made this plan: Take 9 credits per term in order to graduate by summer 2017. During this time, I work a few times a month for the U of U as a simulation patient, and pursue acting, all while working on my degree for a few hours per day. I'm eligible for enough financial aid to cover the cost of tuition and have a little left over to supplement my income, so that I can focus on acting and school.

Great plan, right?

So, I got my financial aid letter for the next school year, and apparently I am eligible for $12,000 LESS than what I was expecting. Starting in July.

Plan THWARTED. All kinds of thwarted.

Suddenly, I found myself in this terrible conundrum. Here were my options:

1. Keep taking 9 credits per semester, but get an additional job to make enough money to pay the bills. This would necessitate giving up acting for the year, because I don't have enough time to work as an actor, take 9 credits, AND work an additional hourly job.

2. Drop out of school altogether, get an additional job, and continue acting work.

3. Reduce my credit load to 6 credits per semester, meaning I'll graduate LATER, but which gives me enough financial aid to continue my current plan of working as an actor and my several other jobs.

After freaking out for about half an hour, I finally chose Option #3. My acting career is really important to me, and I didn't want to give it up. I also didn't want to drop out of school. I'm disappointed about taking longer to finish my degree, but ultimately, it's the option that allows me to pursue both my current goals and my future goals. It's the one that makes the most sense. But it's still a bummer. Because time. And because money.

It means that my budget is a little tighter than I had planned, so I REALLY need to get more paid acting work if I want to do anything except pay rent and utilities. Things like the orthodontist and new character shoes just have to stay on the wish list until and unless I get a paid gig.

Luckily, there are lots of those to be found around here.

(But, Liz? Doesn't Jacob have a job? He can support you both, can't he? Yes. He does have a job, and he could, theoretically, support us. But a few years ago, we decided to split our finances. Our shared monthly bills are split evenly, and anything else we do with our own earned money is up to us. This is the best solution for our marriage. I don't claim to believe that it's best for everyone, but it's DEFINITELY best for us. We do help each other out in emergencies. But I'd really like to hold up my end of the deal and pay for my share of things. Someday, our circumstances may change, and we may shift the way we do things. But for now, this is how it works, and I want to do my part.)

The final chapter to this mini-drama is a happy one, though. I posted that above-pictured Facebook status in the wee small hours of the morning last night (time makes sense?), feeling a little lost and trying to embrace my vulnerability. And I woke up this morning to this ENORMOUS outpouring of love and support, far more than I was asking or hoping for. I had private messages and memes galore to lift my heart, and lifted it was. I was humbled by the kindness that so many showed me. I feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by so many large-hearted people. It makes disappointments far easier to bear. Thank you.

So here's to a longer MFA career with less money, with loving friends and family by my side! Onward.

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Thwarted Plans

Thoughts on "Affair-Proofing Your Marriage"

Recently, an article popped up on my newsfeed. It was from a site called "The Dating Divas," which I'm kind of familiar with. The article was called "16 Ways to Protect Your Marriage From Infidelity." This article isn't an anomaly...there are handfuls of others floating around the web. I found this one and this one that had a similar tone and similar advice. And while I admire the intentions of all of these articles, I want to talk about a few issues I have.

(Disclaimer: All of the articles I reference, and my own thoughts, are specifically about married, monogamous, heterosexual couples. There is an enormous range of other relationships out there...this stuff just doesn't quite apply to them in the same way.) 

First of all, I want to make it clear that all of these rules listed in these articles probably make sense for SOME couples. Jacob and I followed a lot of them when we were first married. Whatever rules you and your spouse set are best for you--no one gets to tell you what's best for YOUR relationship. So in explaining the issues I have, I'm not saying that MY way is the BEST way. I'm just saying there's more than one way that really works.

Let's just get one thing out of the way right now: "Taking it up a notch in the bedroom" will not affair-proof your marriage. I see this idea aimed almost exclusively at women..."give your husband more sex and he won't leave you." This is an archaic idea to me; that if men don't get enough sex (or good enough sex) from you, they'll find it elsewhere. That it is solely your responsibility to meet his every sexual desire. Because, listen. Sex is a super important part of marriage. And making sure one another's legitimate needs are met is a valid and important thing. Compromises sometimes need to be made on either side. But if a man has an affair, there's probably more going on than sexual dissatisfaction. Men are capable of controlling themselves. If there are legitimate sexual disconnects, talk about it. Work it out. But ladies? Don't "give" sex JUST because you're afraid your husband will find it somewhere else if you don't put out.

A lot of these articles talk about sharing passwords, keeping in contact during the day, always knowing who your spouse is with, and being a familiar face to those your spouse works with. One of the most common tips is to never be alone with someone of the opposite sex (no texting or messaging either). But here's why I don't like these rules. Or, at least, here's why Jacob and I don't have them. They all send the message "I DON'T TRUST YOU." They imply that both me and my spouse are children who need constant monitoring. They imply that adultery is an evil monster that's lurking in every shadow, just waiting for the right opportunity to pounce. All of these tips seem so based in FEAR. And the ironic thing is this: that very fear, and that very lack of trust, is damaging to a relationship. And a damaged relationship is actually more susceptible to adultery.

I show my love for Jacob by just trusting him. I trust that he is a grown man who can make responsible decisions and can have meaningful relationships with other people without it threatening me. And I feel his love for me in his trust. My friendships with other men and women are meaningful and real, and none of them make my marriage any weaker. (And in Jacob and I's case, it probably makes our marriage stronger, to be honest. I am a better, fuller person when I have friendships outside of my marriage, and that also makes me a better wife.)

From and LDS standpoint, I understand the need to treat the marriage covenant as sacred, and to guard it fiercely. It makes sense to want to do everything possible to remove temptation, to not give Satan a chance, to keep yourself as far away from even the appearance of sin as possible. But for Jacob and I, the best way to keep our relationship strong is to simply talk to one another. We don't have rules about being alone with the opposite sex. But we do have rules about keeping things from one another. I don't say anything to anyone unless I would also say those things to Jacob. The only things I ever keep from Jacob are things that aren't mine to share--confidences about the lives of others. But I will tell Jacob, "So and so had a long talk about some of the things they're going through, and it was a good talk." Because for us, honesty is what "affair-proofs" our marriage. Adultery is painful not just because of the sex, but because of the deception.

So, I'm currently in rehearsal for a show in which I kiss someone else. This is something that Jacob and I talked about when we first got married (stage/screen kisses) and we already know we're both okay with it. It's a kind of strange situation--one that not many monogamous couples experience...your spouse kissing someone else, even though they don't have a real-life romantic or sexual relationship with that person. And it was a situation that I'd never been in before. But I think if Jacob and I spent a lot of our time worrying about each other's fidelity, a stage kiss would be a much bigger deal than it is. But Jacob is honestly, truly, 100% okay with me stage-kissing someone else. Because he trusts me. The other night in my rehearsal diary, I wrote about how empowering that trust is. It allows me to do my best work as an actress, and to feel safe in fully committing to every scene.

That same trust is what allows me to have meaningful and uplifting conversations with people, both men and women. It's what allows me to follow the Spirit and send a text to someone who might need it, without worrying about what my husband will think if that person happens to be a man. That trust allows me to be the best version of myself, onstage and off. And I try to give that same empowering trust to Jacob.

So here's my tip about "affair-proofing" your marriage: Be an adult. Trust your spouse. Trust yourself. Listen to your instincts, and if you or your spouse are uncomfortable with something, speak up. TALK TO EACH OTHER. Set your own rules and follow them. Don't worry so much about adultery lurking in every corner, waiting for you to let your guard down. Don't give it that much power.

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Thoughts on "Affair-Proofing Your Marriage"

Moving Day Neuroses

I have developed a habit of being miserable for the first night I spend in a new place.

It's not a consistent habit, but I'm certainly feeling that way now. Occasionally (usually when I'm transitioning into something that scares me out of my mind), I have this moment of terror-induced despair, when it seems like absolutely nothing about my new situation is right.

Take tonight, for example.

Jacob got back from New York last night--hooray! We spent last night and this morning together, and then I loaded up the van and drove down here to Utah. He's joining me tomorrow with the Uhaul. And maybe it's the fact that we spent a week and a half apart, but I miss him a lot for this one night we STILL have to spend apart.

Our new apartment is wonderful, but there are details I hadn't anticipated/noticed. For example, I have no idea how or where we'll store anything in the bathroom. It's the size of a postage stamp. The kitchen sink sprays water with tremendous force, and one closet door is perpetually stuck. These are things that I'm sure I'll find charming later, but tonight it's all enough to send me into fits of sorrow.

It doesn't help that it's roughly 4000 degrees in our apartment.

I'm all for summer weather, but it's almost 11 pm and it's still 81 degrees out there. Which I would also love, if we had an air conditioner to take the edge off.

Okay, so we do have an air conditioner. It's just still in Idaho. Along with my husband.

I think I'm also feeling particularly vulnerable tonight as well. Partly because I did an audition today, and those are always terrifying. Half of me feels okay about it, and the other half is certain that I sucked worse than anyone has ever sucked at an audition. I was just so nervous! I didn't know a soul, and I didn't give the accompanist the tempo beforehand, and I couldn't figure out where to look, and I tried belting a note which I had been using mixed voice for, and I hit it but it wasn't amazing, and I forgot all of my blocking, and basically everything I've ever learned or practiced about a good audition flew out of my head from the moment I entered that room. The producers did spend a few minutes whispering to one another after I finished, which is a fact that I will proceed to overanalyze for the next week or so. Jacob said it's probably a good thing...they wouldn't talk about me if they weren't interested. If I could just get a callback--I'm terrible at initial auditions, but being called back gives me the confidence to do well. I'll keep you posted.

The other thing is that our house is actually a duplex, and I can't figure out who our neighbors actually are, because there seems to be a constant flow of people, surrounded by clouds of cigarette smoke, and I'm pretty sure I just heard either a wolf or a very very large dog howling somewhere in their place. New people scare me. And because I'm a woman alone in a strange new place, I'm suspicious and vaguely certain that sometime in the next 12 hours, I'm going to be robbed, raped, murdered, or all of the above. I'm sure they're nice people, but I'm too scared (about everything in my life) to believe it right now.

I'm just feeling that there's a lot to be scared of tonight. Not getting cast. Not getting hired. Not making friends. The wolf/dog creature next door attacking. The people next door being horrid. Being robbed. Being raped. Being murdered. Choking to death on a fruit snack. Cockroaches attacking. Falling down the cellar stairs.

You see what I do when I'm anxious? Stupid brain.

I know that by this time tomorrow night, it will all be fine. I'LL be fine. Jacob will be here, and all our stuff will be here, and I can spend all day decorating and organizing all of it, which is one of my FAVORITE things. And my feeling that I don't know a soul here is not based at all in reality...I know LOTS of people around here. In fact, the majority of my fears listed up there are not based in reality. Most of them are extremely unlikely. And even if they DO happen, most of them are survivable. And really, when it comes down to it, no matter what happens, everything will be okay.

So I'm choosing to focus on that fact.

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Moving Day Neuroses

FINE.

Okay. FINE. I admit it.

I miss my long hair.

I wish I hadn't cut it and I miss putting it in a ponytail and I miss playing with it and I miss its versatility and I miss not having to deal with cow-licks and I miss my big crazy curls.

I've been a mostly short-haired girl for so long--I haven't put my hair in a ponytail since 2006. The length was making me nuts, but my short hair is driving me even MORE nuts.

At first I told Jacob not to let me cut it again, but then I realized that I'm more likely to cut it if he says not to. Ain't no man gonna tell me what to do with my physical appearance. So instead I told him that if I say I want to cut my hair, to just remind me of this. This blog entry. This everyday trying to tame cow-licks.

Sigh.

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FINE.