“I think you should follow your dreams. Why not?”

Following dreams. Following ideas. Following funny fellows on Twitter.
Hold on, it’ll all come together…

“That’s the great secret of creativity. You treat ideas like cats:
you make them follow you.”

Today I found this quote from Ray Bradbury’s Zen in the Art of Writing in a post on good books about writing via brainpickings.com. I found it entirely delightful, and so I posted it on Twitter — which in the early days I would describe as my internet scrapbook of cool ideas. This Twitter archive came in handy later today, when I wanted to remember the exact day that I discovered John Mulaney…

See, I got to see him do stand-up tonight (along with Vanessa “it’s pretty cool and stufflikethat” Bayer) at MSU, and it was everything I hoped it would be. I wanted adorably nerdy jokes with some comedy writer inspiration mixed in. The evening did not disappoint. (I even got to ask an overzealous-audience-member question about what it’s like to write “Stefon”…)

Thanks to the magic of the internet, I can trace my J.M. discovery to the exact moment of origin:

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This was almost 2 years ago. Wowsers. Tried (and failed) to find the video clip of his Weekend Update appearance online. Apparently NBC is real concerned with preventing copyright infringement of obscure episodes from 2010.

How could you not love this face?!

At any rate, I remember watching an adorably unassuming, super-smart commentary from this kid (who turns out to be an SNL writer who’s just a year older than I am…ego smash…), sitting next to Seth Meyers at the Update desk. He wasn’t a character; he was just this guy basically doing a monologue of his witty observations, with a big smile on his face (see also: living the dream).

So fast forward to 2 years later, and I’m as obsessed as ever with SNL and the idea of comedy writing. Whenever I bump up against someone living this kind of life, a little alarm goes off inside of me: I want to go to there. This idea has been following me around forever, like Ray Bradbury’s cat. (You heard it here first: If Jenksie ever gets a sibling, I’m naming her “Ray Bradbury’s Cat”)

I couldn’t stop gushing about it. To my friends after the show. To myself on the drive home. To mom on the phone, then to my boyfriend, and now to you guys.

 

Mom gets credit for the title quote, which warmed my heart more than she can know. I think sometimes my parents don’t know what to do with me…with my big dreams and my unrealistic expectations and my highs-and-lows, crashes and bursts…but instead of her usual dose of pragmatic advice peppered with motherly warnings, she just simply told me what I needed to hear:

“I think you should follow your dreams. Why not?”

(Right?)

She also reminded me how I used to love telling jokes to our preacher when I was preschool age. I was painfully shy for the first 20-or-so years of my life…and young childhood was the extreme. I remember hiding behind mom or dad’s legs whenever people tried to talk to me at church, but I’d totally forgotten that the one exception to my sheepishness was performing. If I could make someone laugh, then shyness be damned! Bring on the STAAAGE!!! (*little girl Carol Channing voice*)

Even now, I get a little sheepish when I talk about this. I feel like I have to qualify it somehow, explain that I’m not just another anybody who wants to be famous. But then I stop myself. Because that’s silly. When someone with pre-med aspirations says, “I want to be a doctor,” I don’t think they immediately feel like they have to apologize. We might go, “oooh! That’s going to be tough!” or make some joke about student loans, but we don’t doubt that it’s a worthy goal, if they can do it. (And I feel like I could do it… Write comedy, that is. Not be a doctor. Blood. Ick.)

Here’s how I tried to explain my post-show feelings to Matt:
When I was little, I didn’t believe much in Santa Claus, nor did I get all excited over photos with Mickey Mouse — but I imagine that this is the feeling of wonder that most kids experience while in the presence of their superheroes. Here is this magical thing that I love, and it’s RIGHT THERE, and it’s real… Mid-explanation, I started to feel silly again. But his answer, more sincere than it may seem on a computer screen, was perfect: “Well, I’m glad you got to sit on Santa’s lap.” And so am I.

So come along, metaphorical Ray Bradbury’s Cat. Keep following me around for a little while longer. We’ve got lots of stuff to do.

Post #200: Tea & Memories

:: behold :: POST NUMBER TWO HUNDRED! :: fanfare ::

I’ve been counting down to this and then putting it off, because I wanted to find something important or profound to say in post # two-oh-oh.

But instead I think two little moments from the last two days are worth a little lingering. So here we go.

True False 2012 // street art

Little Moment #1

Last night I went to dinner with my parents @ McAlister’s.

In the last few years, our relationship has shifted. Sure, they still worry about me constantly…telling me to “be careful” if I say I’m going to the mall, for instance…or the bathroom…but we’ve evolved past the power struggles of high school into a friendship of sorts. They buy my dinner, and I lend them seasons of Mad Men. It’s lovely.

Walking to our table, I heard a little voice behind me say, “YEAH!” and then this tiny kid skimmed past me, sipping from a to-go glass of tea almost as big as his torso. I’m not good at guessing ages, but I’d estimate he was kindergarten sized? And he was so, so happy. (You know that sort of “YEAH!” sound, because you’ve made it before. When something is so, so good that it takes you off guard, and so you let your guard down and just celebrate it. Yeah.) That sip of tea was making his LIFE, and why shouldn’t it? It’s springtime! He’s alive and sweet tea is tasty!

Not particularly meaningful, but nice and sweet nonetheless…
Not unlike a torso-sized glass of McAlister’s tea…

(Yeah, I know. That metaphor is awful. Hang on, it’ll all come together.)

Little Moment #2

My mom works as an aide for Wonder Years (the at-risk preschool program—not the beloved ’90s dramedy). Which means she spends her days with 4-year-olds. Which means I get to hear lots of cute stories. Today she told me about the stoplight system for monitoring kids’ behavior. Pretty straightforward: good kids stay on green, slightly naughty kids go yellow, etc. …all the way to black. (B’cause three shades of badness just aren’t enough these days?) Anyway, I guess there’s a running joke (big hit with the 4-year-old crowd) that the teachers are always “on green.” And that struck me as really funny. I kind of love the idea of Mom getting put “on yellow” every once in a while, just to keep things interesting. (I would be a horrible, just horrible, teacher.)

That story brought up a memory of my own from 3rd grade. (That year was intense, y’all! Remember? Cursive handwriting…times tables…Central American capital cities set to rap music… [oh, for sure] I can still sing part of it: “San Juan, Puerto Rico / San Salvador, El Salvador / Managua, Nicaragua…” Catchy as hell.)

Most of my childhood memories are all mashed together in my mind, buried under all the algebra equations and Facebook statuses that have come along since, but this next one is vivid even after 20 years.

My 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Rogers, and the other teacher, Mrs. Rozell, (yep. small school = two classes.) were acting out a math problem for us, something about shopping at Wal-Mart. As they were pretending to browse together, out of nowhere Mrs. Rogers mime-reached for a toy gun out of an invisible display (I can still see it. She employed excellent space work.) and she went ape with it, just like a 3rd grader would do, much to Mrs. Rozell’s mock dismay.

IT WAS AWESOME. It was just so silly and free and unexpected. And it stuck. There it is, still in my mind. TWENTY years later, it still makes me happy.

Looking back // 03.17.12

Finally, It All Comes Together, As Promised

So, both these Little Moments got me thinking about happy thoughts.

I just finished the book The Depression Cure, which my brain doctor recommended to me last week.

[Sidebar: Yes, I see a brain doctor. I suppose this statement alone could be one of those "important or profound" confessions worthy of a 200th blog post, but I don't mean for it to be. People see brain doctors (people you know even...) just like people see foot doctors. Or lady-business doctors. Your brain is just another part of your body, really, and as such it can sometimes get sick.
Mine happens to "get sick" sort of like how a kid with a cold gets sick: taking turns between flamboyant bursts of rebellious energy & sudden crashes of pure exhaustion. (Which is one of the better analogies I've ever come up with to explain it all, actually.) But that's life. We all have our stuff. Keeps life interesting... Okay, you ready to go back now?]

So the book. It’s great. Full of advice on how to keep any brain healthy. When it comes to happy thoughts, the author explains, our minds are creatures of habit. Our neural pathways are connected in part by our mood states, and so our minds tend to think about the same types of things, thanks to the mood associations our memories have made. Bad moods can breed bad thoughts; good moods breed good.

Seems simple enough, but as emotionally colorful as my mind might be (like I said, crashes & bursts), sometimes it can be hard for me to connect to simple happiness.

Which can be hard for everybody sometimes, right?

black & white me // emotionally colorful

So maybe this little kid with his tea + a 3rd grade memory of my teacher’s surprising silliness might be important or profound after all.

Good thoughts >> Good habits >> Good life.

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(Photos by Matt Allen. Pretty good with the iPhone and the happy thoughts.)

New Blog Challenge! :: Images

More details to come, but for now I’ll just leave this here…
(Don’t you love a good mystery???)

Max Ernst "The Kiss" (1927)

 [ Image source & painting info on Guggeheim.org ]
I suggest you read up, especially if you’re into “exuberant lasciviousness”…

This was one of my favorite paintings at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection* in Venice. It’s just so striking and strange. Haunting but also happy. Feels a little incomplete. And that BLUE! Couldn’t you just swim in it?

Take it away, blog challengers!

Everyone else: you’re certainly invited to be inspired, too. What do you think?

*I’ve waxed gaga over this place a handful of times before. (At least once during ABC Challenge.) Let’s all go to there…