Last Week #22 | Ron Swanson Officiated Our Wedding

 Last week, Nick Offerman (AKA Ron Swanson from Parks & Recreation) officiated my and Eli's wedding. Before I get into the (absolutely incredible) details, first, let me just tell you why this is significant.

1. I often jokingly call the Parks & Recreation theme song my antidepressant, because for a few dark months in early 2014, it pretty much was. I had watched the show when it first aired, but lost track of it during high school. Post-high school, however, during a very depressing winter when I had nothing else to do, I revisited it and watched three seasons in about a month. From that point on, the show was my drug of choice.

2. When Eli and I first started talking, it was via text, and we were cripplingly awkward with each other, I think because neither of us had ever been this interested in and attracted to another person before. So we started giving each other compliments in the only nerdy way we could think of to tell each other we wanted to kiss each other’s faces. We started Ann Perkins complimenting each other. If you're unfamiliar, it looks a little something like this: 

3. One night, we both took quizzes to see which Parks & Recreation characters we were. I got Leslie, and he got Ben. Then, I took another quiz. “Which Parks & Rec character would be ‘Ya Boo’?” I got Ben, and I sent it to him with the smirk emoji. That was flirting to us.

4. When we finally said I love you, Eli said it the normal way, but I said, “I love you and I like you.” Not because I wanted to be like Ben and Leslie, (even though I definitely do), but because that was how I felt. Love and like were two different things in my mind, and I felt both. Later, Eli would put it perfectly: “I like you to the point of loving you without losing any of the liking you.” 

Basically, Parks & Recreation is super freaking important to our relationship, and to us as individuals. I take waffles seriously. And on Wednesday night, Ron Swanson officiated our wedding. We went to Nick Offerman & Megan Mullally's Summer of 69 Show (no apostrophe) and were just enjoying the beautiful weirdness that was the show when they asked for a volunteer couple from the audience. The next thing I knew Eli was raising his huge arms and we were being beckoned onstage by two of our favorite actors. The rest is kind of a blur, but I shook Nick Offerman's hand and he complimented my lavender hair and I hugged Megan Mullally and Nick kept talking about Eli's man bun and we played a compatibility game where we were challenged to answer questions in precisely the same way...and we pretty much crushed it. Not to brag, but we answered all but one question the same way, all while standing in the presence of two people we routinely watch on Netflix while cuddling. Then Nick Offerman stood between us and asked us one final question... "Do you, Eli, take Fran to be your lawfully wedded wife..." He then presented us with rings and that is how I got married onstage to my absolute favorite person by Ron freakin' Swanson.

The funny thing about this whole story is, I've recently been plagued by a question that this experience completely put to rest. The question is this-- when you're happy, can you experience as much true joy in new shows and music and art and life experiences as when you are not? Is there some inherent connection that you make with culture when you're lonely and sad that you don't make when you're satisfied? I was thinking about the connection I made to Parks & Recreation when I was depressed, and worrying that I'd never find such happiness in another show or movie again, because I'd already found it in a person. And I know, any logical, rational person would say-- but Fran, this is so much better! You've made a connection with a real, tangible human who can register your love and give love in return! But you don't understand. My connection with music and stories and television shows is what makes me, me. 

The notion that somehow those connections wouldn't be as strong in light of my finding Eli is completely terrifying to me. I think these fears can honestly be linked to an experience I had a few weeks ago. On a sleepy Monday morning recently, I was watching a terrible young adult reality show on YouTube to wake myself up, as you do, and everyone was lamenting the fact that summer is almost over. And for the first time in my life, I realized that the end of summer doesn't mean everything sucks again. Everything in my life will pretty much stay the same, no matter the season. But then of course I started worrying that normalcy is bad and regularity equals stagnation, lack of inspiration, boredom and indifference.

Now I realize that's so not true. Of course not. Now, I get the privilege of experiencing new shows and extraordinary life experiences with someone who loves them and me just as much. Last week I finally realized that just because I have a big girl job that doesn't mean I or my life is anything close to boring. Because I have someone in my life who is willing to seek out the weird and extraordinary with me. 

-Fran

Last Week #15 | Whiplash (And Not the Fun Kind With J.K. Simmons)

 This week was another difficult one. I felt extremely hopeless, helpless, and desperately sad. And the only thing worse than feeling that way is feeling that way and not knowing how to describe it, or tell loved ones about it. I was crippled by it. Sure, I got out of bed. Sure, I still went to work and did things here and there, but my heart wasn’t completely in it. And people noticed. I didn’t seem like myself, they said. I seemed defeated. I was unproductive, and unmotivated to change. But that wasn’t really necessary, because as it turns out the only solution was to wait it out. Getting through the week, as much as I hate the notion of that, was all I could do. 

Something that Eli said to me a lot this week was, "Things are getting done. Progress is being made. Steps are being taken to get things back on track." But for some reason (well, not some reason...I know the reason. It's because I'm me) I couldn't accept that. "Little steps aren't big enough for me," I said. "I'm a do-it-all-in-one-day kind of girl. I get half done in the morning and the other half done at night." But in the end, he was right. In the middle of the week, those little bits of progress, those picked up and dropped strings of hope didn't feel like enough. They felt half finished, half baked, and entirely infuriating. But now, sitting here on Monday, I'm starting to see how the strings are beginning to weave themselves back together again. It's not a pretty weaving by any means, but at least it's something.

After the switch, however, comes a different issue. How do you go from being so sad to being happy, and hopeful? Like…after these fourteen days of purgatory, I basically have no idea how to be happy again. Things are on the mend, but I don’t know how to adjust to it. After so long of being so sad, I can’t just switch on a dime. I don't have the answer to this problem right now, but rest assured that I am actively pursuing it. Trying everything in every "self care" article I read-- from putting a fresh vase of flowers in my room, to doing yoga, to watching good movies about a guy who gets trapped on Mars but somehow still remains hopeful, and allowing myself to be a ridiculous child again and play Pokemon Go (I hate myself for this). 

Nevertheless, I am, understandably so, feeling a little whiplash from things changing so fast. (And not the fun kind of whiplash with J.K. Simmons where you leave the movie feeling inspired to become a drummer.) Today I have an interview for a new, but not so different, job. Tomorrow, who knows. For the first time in my life I have no idea where I will be living or working three months from now. And that thought is absolutely paralyzing to me. I'm the kind of person who is so terrified of change that I will purposely not put myself in the way of new opportunities and possibilities because I'm afraid they will end badly. I'll be terrible at it, I won't be able to handle it, it will destroy everything. These are all excuses I've made over the years. But you know what, as much as I am terrified, I still always do it. I always sit in that terror and fear and anxiety, drown myself in it, and then go do it anyway. Because (and I'm notorious for this) I don't really listen to what others say to me. "Don't get that haircut." Pssh, did it anyway. "Don't wear that outfit." HA. For better or for worse, I haven't listened to that since the start. "Don't become a liberal arts major, do something practical with your life!" Yeah, I ignored the hell out of that one. So the question I need to ask myself is this-- why, if you don't listen to anyone else who questions your actions, do you listen to the little a**hole in your head spewing self-doubt? How is she any different from the person who criticized you for not going to college at the beginning? Answer- she's not. So ignore her. Drown her out with Leslie Knope complimenting you like you're the world's greatest human woman (because you are) and get over her. 

 -Fran

Last Week #14 | Growing Pains

 Last week, as you may know from my mini blog post on Saturday, was rough. Before the weekend was over I drafted this really idiotic blog post in which I avoided the hard stuff and literally at one point said, "It's too much to talk about, so once again I'm going to skirt around the issue." I talked about how change is hard and scary but in the end I make the right choices for me and I need to trust myself more. And that's nice and all, but it's bullshit. I decided a few weeks back that I wasn't going to do that on this blog anymore. And the more I looked at that draft, the more I felt like it was a cop out, and even though writing this realer one is hard, it's more worth it. Because to tell you the truth, I'm uncomfortable and I'm vulnerable and I'm sad and I don't want to explore that sadness. (Who does?!) 

But if I don't, what does that say about me? Furthermore, if I don't explore it, will I regret it? Will I have missed something? An opportunity of some sort? A few weeks ago my mentor and I discussed the idea of dwelling a little more, of lingering in the moments as they happen even if they are difficult or vulnerable or awkward. Although that conversation was in reference to my weekly videos, it applies to this as well, so that’s what I’m going to do here. 

On Monday a very wise three year old said something that didn't quite hit me until this morning, when I was editing my weekly vlog. He said, "we have to have a house." This was the final statement in a very silly conversation we had, which went a little something like this:

Silas: "What if we smushed the house into jelly?!"

Eli: “Oh no! If we smushed it into jelly?!”

Silas: “Yeah! Then we could play in it!”

Eli: "Well then we wouldn't have a house anymore. Where would you sleep?"

Silas: "...in the JELLY!" 

Eli: “I guess that’s true you’d have to…cause that was your house, huh?…You'd get sick of the jelly."

And that, a seven sentence exchange between a 19 year old and a 3 year old, is the best way I have to describe my current situation without getting into all of the gory details. I, for lack of a better term, smushed my house into jelly. And now I'm sleeping in it. And I'm sick of it. 

Right now, I’m trying to navigate the vague and blurry differences between house and home. I guess I have a house, but that house is not my home. I was going to say I don't have a home, but that's not true. I have a home with every person who loves me, who looks out for me, even if they aren't necessarily part of my nuclear family. My house has always been a safe space for me. So much so that I have been afraid I'll never leave. But now, I guess that's not so much of an issue. I do want to leave, because every night I returned I felt something I've never felt before upon returning to my own "home": anxiety.

This week I spent my time at a million different places that aren't my house, but could be called home. Coffee shops, Eli's house, Kelsey's house, gardens and parks and restaurants and family camps. So many different places felt like home, but not all of them were easy to get in and out of. An island in the middle of a lake in the Adirondacks, for example, was no picnic. We had to kayak out there, pull our kayaks in, and climb up, dirtying our feet along the way. We had to scale the only rocks available, sharp jagged ones that I cut my knees on. That’s what young adulthood feels like to me right now. Skinned and bruised knees, difficulty at every sharp turn. I don’t know if that’s just something everyone goes through, if everyone needs to feel this pain in order to be motivated to leave home, or if it's just a particular brand of hell reserved especially for me. 

I usually like to end these posts on a positive note, with a line that makes everyone else feel okay about my not being okay. But that wouldn’t be very truthful of me today. I’m not feeling all that positive. I’m feeling the sharp jagged edges of a home outgrown digging into my skin. I’m feeling the growing pains, and I’m feeling the grief that goes along with it. But I’m grateful for the not-so-nuclear family I have around me, and the fact that they won’t let me give up. 

-Fran

Last Week #8 | New Developments

 Last week, I was very focused on saying "yes." I don't know whether it's the improv class, or... Oh, yeah, it's definitely the improv class.

 Although I had an abundance of meetings and tasks and last minute finalizations to complete, I really wanted to make sure that the fullness of my schedule didn't effect the quality of my work. I tried to make sure that I was also enjoying moments in my life for me, and not just focusing on getting to and through the next task.

 To that end: I read a lot. I wrote a lot. I drew a lot. I tried to find beauty and notice it, even though tough moments were happening. I tried to remain optimistic, but inevitably, I discovered something new about myself. I now find being alone a little bit difficult. In the moments where I was, unintentionally, alone, I found myself going to bed at 9:30 because I didn't know what else to do. I want to work on that. Because as someone who so prided herself on her ability to work, to be alone, to make the best of every crappy moment, I now seem to have lost the ability to do that. So that's something I am going to be working on this week.

 I hope you enjoy the week ahead, and find the strength to tackle whatever personal or creative challenges are daunting you.

 -Fran

Last Week #7 | Close Calls

Last week was simultaneously stressful and not. Let me break it down for you.

#1: Monday was great. 

 Soleil Cafe had a fantastic opening day (you can read more about that here), and my improv class went well again. I'm learning so much from that class, and not just about acting. It is helping me in my everyday life. In my thought processes, in my relationships, in my communication with others. 

#2: I got pulled over for speeding, but didn’t get a speeding ticket. 

 For someone who struggles with driving, this was horrifying. But I guess it could be considered a wake up call? Honestly, I spend a lot of time driving nowadays, with a 30 minute commute between my home and Peaks, or my home and my boyfriend's house. And I guess I'm constantly feeling like I don't have enough time, or (we) don't have enough time, so I try to make up that lost time in the car. Which is stupid. So that experience was upsetting, and bad, but maybe also good.

#3: Someone hit my car while it was parked in a parking lot. 

 Ugh. This is nothing but bad, really, except for the fact that their insurance will pay for it and it wasn't my fault at all. It's just yet another way in which I'm feeling overwhelmed about driving again recently. 

#4: That same night, I saw Captain America: Civil War. 

 A movie I'd been anticipating since about 2010. You can read more about that here, but just know that it was the pick-me-up experience I needed after all these car-related disasters this week. 

#5: Friday, I finally finished something that's been on my To-Do List for 3 weeks straight now.    Revising the first 50 pages of my in-progress novel for a novel workshop class I'm taking at school. This is the final step, the final assignment for the class before the end of the semester, and it's been by far the hardest one. Making significant changes to a work that has consumed your creative mind for nearly two years is never easy. But Friday I made it to page 52. And though it still needs some fine tuning before I send it in on May 15th, I'm proud of the progress I made this week. 

All of these things are not things you'd know by watching my weekly vlogs. They no longer have a narrative (which I honestly like) and really only show the highs, rather than the lows. But these are the moments in-between the highs. The middles, and the lowest of the lows. So, now that you know it all, you can see the peaks right here: 

 -Fran

Last Week #3

 Last week once again started out with a lot of anxiety. There was miscommunication and worry, but I did my best to resolve it as quickly as possible. Throughout the week I had great connections with people on the internet, who really came through for me and my online work.

 On Thursday, the Aries New Moon, I symbolically planted new life in OVERDUE by planting a succulent in the OVERDUE mug I was given by my co-director/producer/editor Monica at the end of filming this summer. It now brightens my day to see something growing out of something we made together.

 Friday I saw months of hard work pay off. We had a screening party for OVERDUE at the Cazenovia Public Library. I'm still not sure how to put into words how it went, or how I feel about it, and I can't really show you it because I idiotically forgot my camera battery at home on the biggest night of my recent life. But mostly, I think I just felt grateful. That I got to host this event at all, and share the work that I and my friends did over the summer with people who seemed genuinely interested in and impressed by it...but also that I got to do it with said friends. I was nervous as heck and I still don't really think I was the best hostess (I spent a lot of time in the back holding a small child and nervously drinking ginger ale) but I got to hold someone's hand while I watched myself awkwardly dance on an enormous projector. I got to do it with people I love.

 As the event went on, I relaxed and became more myself. So I think I'm going to challenge myself to do more of these, and hope that not only the events continue to get better, but I do as well. So here's to doing things that scare us, and doing them multiple times, and with fervor.

 This is what my life looked like this week. As usual, it's the in-between moments that are documented, not the events themselves. But I'm starting to think there's something to that.

 -Fran