i'll be there for you

I'm worried I've become a crummy friend.

I'm not being hard on myself, and I'm not hoping/asking for an outpouring of comments about how that is or is not true. I'm just saying.

I'm worried I've become a crummy friend.

I think it might be one of those Growing Pains things. Not a thing like Leonardo DiCaprio on Growing Pains was a thing. I mean an actual, awkward growing-up-is-hard-to-do thing.

I get that people grow up and maybe grow out of each other. It's not always like you wake up one day and when you think about your BFF, you're just kind of over it. I mean, I guess sometimes that happens but usually people just go to college, people move away, people get married, people's priorities shift. That doesn't mean your friendship sucks or ever did suck. It just means growing up sucks. And I think I've been doing a lot of growing up in the last few years.

I'm quick to say, that hasn't sucked. In fact, 95% of growing up over the last two years hasn't sucked at all. But I think the part that has sucked is my seeming inability to be a good, constant friend as we all grow up and out and on and upward. My natural affinity for social events has taken somewhat of a stunning hit ever since I started being a Grown Up with an 8-5 job and actual responsibilities to attend to. I'm not hanging out like I used to. I'm not texting like I used to. I'm not even Facebooking like I used to. It's weird. I'm not used to it. It's a smidgen lonely if I think about it for too long. So that part kind of sucks.

I look at the new friendships that I develop lately-- the ones that seem to take the places of others. I don't think I've lost friends necessarily, at least not completely. But they're gone in a way, replaced by others, and the weirdest part is that the new friends in my Grown Up Life are actual Grown-Ups. Like, older than me. Like, filled with world experience. Like, who go to bed at a boring decent hour like I've started to. I look at my new friends and they are starting to look like the friends I remember my parents having when I was small-- friends who you maybe see only sometimes, and definitely not until 2AM.

This weekend I was able to fly for a few days back into the land of College Friends, shopping and talking and quoting and adventuring and drinking large cups of Diet Coke in the early hours of the morning. It was nice. It made me glad and a little sentimental. Of course then it also made me thoughtful and fretful about what am I missing? now that I'm apparently ventured off into Grown Up land where it's a whole lot less carefree and involves remarkably fewer meals at Denny's. It was fun. Grown Up land isn't quite so fun. Even Grown Up Friends aren't so fun-- at least, they're not the same fun, and the only commonality between Fun Friends and Grown Up Friends in my life is me so what's my deal? All my Fun Friends seem to still be Fun and they're all still Fun Friends together, which is not to say I'm not Fun or that my fun Grown Up Friends aren't Fun, but why am I not a Fun Friend with the other Fun Friends? The only thing I can think is that somewhere between college and now, I have turned away from the Fun.

Which is clearly why I'm worried I've become crummy friend.

I want to resolve to make more time for the friends I'm worried I've lost. I want them to know I still love them and that I can still be Fun. I don't want my job or my responsibilities to define me or my time. I need to take a deep breath and relax about my schedule because people always matter way more than most other things.

I'm sorry if I've seemed a little out of the loop recently. I don't mean to be. I love you. I want to be your friend. I want to make you red velvet cookies with white chocolate chips and eat nachos and laugh and laugh and laugh. I want to text you. I want you to be in my life.

And someday, let's all hang out in the fountain at the JFSB at BYU like the very funnest friends I know:

today's inspiration

Okay. So it's Royal Wedding day. And I get that the whole world is obsessed with Duchess Catherine because she's really fantastic, and it's her day, and her dress is the most beautiful, and she's basically Cinderella. I'm right there with you. But I'm sorry-- today I'm totally inspired by HRH cousin Beatrice.

I really dig that she's super down to earth and hasn't always been svelt. She's got great hair, and great hats, and great genes, and girl isn't afraid of an appetite. Werk.

She also looks exactly like her great-great-great-great-grandgranny Queen Victoria.

And now she looks so so great and fit.


And her look at The Wedding this morning? CAN I GET AN 'AMEN'?!! (No, I'm serious. I love this.)

She and Eugenie make the princess thing look gooooooood.

not dying

Today is a good day.

Today I met with a new endocrinologist to discuss My Disease.

Doesn't that sound dramatique? My Disease. It's kind of NBD (no big deal) to me at this point because I've been living with My Disease for six years-- well, really my whole life, but with the knowledge of it for six years-- and things look good.

What's My Disease? Just a hyperthyroid condition called Graves Disease. Remember Marty Feldman? Remember this guy? He had it too. He's one of my heroes. He had very advanced Graves Disease (with the eyeballs and all that) and still managed to be very funny and have very funny friends and a very successful acting career. I mean, he definitely had a specific niche in Hollywood, but he filled it well. I could have a niche (even with the eyeballs-- which I don't have [phew!]). I even wrote a poem about Graves and originally called it "Cheers to Marty Feldman." It looks like free verse but it's actually an Italian Petrarchan sonnet. Tricky!

But anyway, so my thyroid and I have been close pals for about six years now. I call her Madame Butterfly-- get it? Because the thyroid is the "butterfly gland?" Get it? Ha-cha-cha! And I mean, while she caused some big major problems up front, it seems we've reached a kind of truce in our relationship.

Today's latest is: Madame promises to chill out and I promise to not fill her with drugs for a while.

We'll see how long this agreement continues.

In the meantime, good job Madame. Keep on truckin'!

It's a good day.

today's inspiration

This is Zooey Deschanel.You may have heard of her. She's kind of famous or whatever and spells her name kind of kooky. Anyway, today I'm inspired because I'm kind of over the "going blonde-ish" thing and I'm back to embracing my brunette roots (get it-- like hair? like the brown roots I'd have if I dyed my hair blonde-ish?).

Aaaaaaaaaand since my hair is growing out all nicely, just in time for spring, I think I'll just print a few photos of Zooey's hair and bangs and say "that" to my hairstylist-- not blonde-ish.Perfection.

~*~*happy wednesday*~~*~

Hello there, Wednesday. We meet again. It's a bit chilly out today. Grey. Wet. But you know what they say about April showers.

And you know, I'd rather it drizzle on a Wednesday than snow because snow would crush my spirit. It's starting to feel like those cool spring mornings last year when I started taking care of myself and riding my bike to work. Feels nice.

I just painted my toenails Green 11 from Urban Outfitters because I'm wearing sandals even though I'm forced to use the space heater under my desk because I'm forcing it to be spring. Soon I'll be able to paint my fingernails again too.

This is closing week of A Tale of Two Cities, which isn't exactly "happy," though it is time to let this chapter close so we can begin the next one. If you haven't seen it yet, you still have SEVEN opportunities because I'm doing every single performance this week! CLICKY CLICKY to snag some tix. Why wouldn't you want to witness the veritable animal pelt my wig has matted into? Oh, and it's a really pretty show. You'll leave feeling pretty great about life.

Also,
I'll be picking up a copy of this book today because Tina Fey doesn't know it yet, but we're going to be best friends one day.

McDonald's hashbrowns for breakfast, wearing the greatest non-legging leggings in the world, intent on going for a run this afternoon (because I'm determined to be a runner now?!!)-- pretty good day, guys.

how i spend my evenings

Last night, something strange happened.

I went running.

I mean, like for exercise. I ran. I went running.

No, I wasn't running away from the rec center. And I wasn't running to a Wendy's Homestyle Chicken Go-Wrap. I was just there, and I was on a treadmill, and I ran-- of my own accord-- and I didn't hate it.

Guys, this is a big deal. I'm growing up. AND getting fit.

The rec center is funny. I like it because I really feel like one of the people. There are just all kinds of ages and shapes and work-out clothes there on those cardio machines, just listening to their tunes and reading their books and watching their TVs. I'm a frequent visitor enough that I'm starting to make some eye-contact-head-nod-friends. We're like, "Hello. I acknowledge our similar schedules and sweaty faces. Good job for being here."

There are some weirdies. My favorite is the little old gentleman who has sat next to me on the stationary bikes three times now. He's got that crinkly old-man skin that's kind of cracking on his foreheard, and wears jeans (jeans!) that are a little too short, and bright white sneakers with tube socks. More times than not I notice he's just sitting there, arms crossed in his flannel shirt, completely unmoving as he watches his personal television with fascination. I wonder about him. Does he not have a TV at home? Does he go to the rec center under the pretense of staying active but he really just wants to watch Criminal Minds reruns? Has he recently had some medical procedure that has some physical activity recommended for recovery but he's really not all that interested? I wonder.

I also noticed a startling number of people milling about yesterday who are apparently and inexplicably unable to move their arms when they walk. It was a Seinfeld episode, only real life.

The guy on the treadmill next to me last night was throwing down a tremendous stank. I guess that's got to be expected at any fitness facility, but it really almost forced me to pack up and start on another machine. Tip: if you're going to work out in layers upon layers of clothing to sweat it out just a little extra, KEEP YOURSELF CLEAN. Blegh.

But remember how I run now?

Weird.