How do 9-5ers make friends? Kickboxing classes? I am starting to chat with comics I like, but I have a complicated relationship with that.
I love who I am when I’m giving other people advice. I love who I am when I’m telling people my “plan.” I’d love to hook my heart and my ego up to those words and, when I wake up at 4 am, be comforted by them instead of feeling so fraudulent.
Challenges within challenges. Like Russian nesting dolls for grown ups.
I have a lot of guilt over the fact that I’ve never been able to be all the way one thing. I throw myself into things for a couple of weeks, and if those things are lucky they get thrown into my rotation of “things that I do.” Vegan cooking is one.
So in the morning, I hang with Coco, Louis and Christian. Then I go home to a broken fridge, 6 am garbage trucks, and my dwindling life savings fund in a jar under the bed.
I figured what’s more American than making your own unhealthy version of another culture’s food? This was oily and greasy and made me feel like Miranda Hobbes. Only she’d never listen to Elton John.