Full House at 2, Empty Bed at 3.

I'm single. I'm 23. I'm (barely) financially stable. I'm learning to love myself before I love men.

But last night, loneliness felt like it was piercing my chest. It got to me. The emptiness of my bed felt unbearable, though my heated blanket was trying its darndest to replicate the warmth of a man. I laid there wishing my pillow was made of ribs and chest hair. Thick, dark hair that I could run my fingers through. Or maybe no hair. Maybe just a chest, bare and warm. A chest for me to call my resting place. My solace. My home base. Or at least a place I can rent while I'm traveling through life. His chest could be like the pillow at a hostel that I know will be given to another person soon but I still do my best to sleep while I have it.

I think of all the times I took having someone else's body heat in my bed for granted. How could I be angry about being sweaty? How could I be frustrated that he was breathing on my neck? How could I turn away because I claim to sleep better that way? Last night I would have taken the sweat and breath of any man who would have me. Or at least that's what my chest was telling me I would do. In my day to day life, talking to a man with the intention of finding him soon after in my bed feels daunting.

After a weekend of parties and drinking, my lonely heart couldn't bare a full house at 2am and an empty bed at 3. In college, a party meant a warm bed. You could pretty much close your eyes, spin around and point to your next bedmate. Now, it's not that easy. I don't want to sleep with just anyone. I don't want to sleep with the cute comedy boys I had over on Friday. I can't. I've already taken too many in my bed. They've already kept me warm and I kicked them out into the cold. I can't do it again. I can't look into a man's eyes while I'm lying to him anymore. I can't look into a man's eyes and know I'm lying to myself anymore. I just can't.

But my chest still yearns. My brain flashes back to the sheets I had before. All the men whose faces I have seen horizontal. All of the eyes that flickered as they dreamed. All the faces I could just reach out and touch. All the lips I could lean over and kiss. I miss those men on nights like last night. Those men weren't my man but I miss them all the same.

So I wait. I don't believe in soulmates. I'm not waiting for that. I'm waiting for an undeniable connection. That takes time. So I lay down and try to breathe like I learned in yoga. I turn on my meditation/sleep app and I drift away with my chest still reaching towards the void. Reaching towards a man I do not know yet. Someone who I will be able to love. Someone who I will know horizontally again. Someone who is with someone else right now, or whose chest is as pierced by loneliness as my own. And HECK! Maybe someone who doesn't tell jokes for a goddamn living.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Money Woe Is Me

I owe around $110,000 to the government for my education, $6,943 to Columbia College for the last semester of my education, $2,187 to my credit card company, and $1,895 to a hospital who gave me an IV and told me to go buy extra strength exedrin. For me to pay off my college debt before I'm 31, I will have to pay $1,208 a month for 8 years, not including interest. I currently make $41,000 a year from my two jobs. After taxes, I make $2,760 a month. I pay $600 in rent, $100 for my train pass, $50 for utilities and soon will be paying $101 for health insurance through my desk job. That leaves me $310 after all of my expenses. $310. For an entire month. OH and groceries are around $150 because to stay healthy and out of the doctor's office means spending more on fruits and veggies. So now we are down to $160. That means I can't save for improv classes, I can't contribute to company potlucks, I can't move to L.A and pursue my acting career, I can't visit Ohio for 8 years. 8 years just to be out of debt for 4 years of education. Being a college educated woman is one of my proudest accomplishments. Even if I didn't finish fully, I spent my time learning, growing, becoming more empathetic. The people I met, the books I read, and the shows I saw shaped me as a human being. I will never regret my education. 

I'm not lazy. I work every day of the week and do shows on Saturdays. I want to make a life for myself. I don't want anyone to hand it to me. But goddamnit, why are young people who seek a better life in financial chains for most of their young adult life. The years we should be focused on self fulfillment and growth are not ours anymore. My mother was having children by my age. She owned a house by my age. She had a 401K set up by my age. She is one of the only people over 45 who seems to be empathetic to the fact that, financially, my generation is fucked. I never want to own a home but I want to have a nice wedding and honeymoon, I want to travel and I want to adopt my children. But I can't do any of that until my debt is paid off. The average price to adopt a child is $34,000. How could I EVER afford that with student loan debt and the regular expenses of raising a child? WHY WOULD ANYBODY MARRY ME WITH $110,000 IN STUDENT LOAN DEBT?

If I file bankruptcy or die, my debt still has to be paid. Even if I kill myself, my debt would fall on the shoulders of my mother. HOW CRAZY IS THAT?!? Even in death, we cannot escape our student debt. If I were to get cancer, I would refuse treatment. I would beg my friends and family to first help me pay off my college debt so that in the event of my death, my mother wouldn't be left with a hole in her heart and a life ruining amount of debt. I think about this scenario so often. I couldn't bare receiving treatment that will cost thousands of dollars, only to lose my battle and leave my mother with more debt. THIS IS WHAT I MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF FOR WHEN MY BRAIN DRIFTS OFF. 

Fuck any legislator that doesn't believe in free college. Fuck them. Fuck colleges who build new student centers instead of paying their teachers a livable wage, or charging their students a manageable amount of tuition. Fuck baby boomers who tell millennials they worked to pay off their student debt in a summer and we just aren't trying hard enough/are asking for everyone to take care of us. Fuck anyone who doesn't know the stress of filling out the FAFSA. FUCK the fact that I fantasize about winning the lottery more than 3 times a week. FUCK THIS TAX PLAN. FUCK.

I try my damndest to stay positive. I've worked for years to train my brain to see the lovely parts of other people and tough situations. But this is an ugly part of modern life that needs to be dealt with. We need an educated work force. We need empathetic people in our world. We need free or more manageable tuition. 

My generation is not lazy. We are not entitled. We are not asking too much. We want to live. We want to be financially independent. I, personally, want to be able to afford my future children. THAT'S FUCKING ALL. 

Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

A Quote I Love But I Can't Put Right On Facebook Because I'm Not In 7th Grade Anymore

And yes, I did find it on Pinterest. Bite me.

"This is why once you've traveled for the first time all you want to do is leave again. They call it the travel bug but really it's the effort to return to a place where you are surrounded by people who speak the same language as you. Not English or Spanish or Mandarin or Portuguese but that language where others know what it's like to leave. change. grow. experience. learn. then go home again and feel more lost in your hometown than you did in the most foreign place you visited. This is the hardest part about traveling and it's the very reason why we all run away again."

If you can't tell, I kinda, sorta, wanna go back to Europe.

THAT'S ALL FOR TODAY, FOLKS.


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A Love Letter To My Ever Growing Belly

My dearest belly,

With every shower, with every outfit change, with every tagged picture on Instagram, I see you growing. I watch you grow and wonder if you'll ever stop. I wonder if this is the female body I dreamed for when I was 101 pounds. When I wanted to grow up so fast and wanted my body to follow suit.

I wonder what it will be like the next time I allow a man to see you in your full glory. For a second I wonder what he'll think but then I remember it is a privilege for him to see you at all. One he shouldn't take for granted by having any sort of opinions. I remember if he does express negative opinions about you, I will be showing him the door. 

I think about you getting larger as my life goes on. I feel so many emotions through you. My anxiety feels like it's eating you. Lust feels like I've let critters lose in you. Mourning feels like I'm rid of you. You are the first sign that I am feeling these things. I thank you for being honest with me when I was unable to be honest to myself. I pray you continue to show me how I really feel. 

I think of how you are meant to house my children someday. I think of how much larger you could become while growing my carbon copy. I'm sorry if you wanted to do that, I will not be producing a carbon copy. You will be empty of children for all of your days, if I have any say in the matter. I'm sorry because I know you yearn to have them. 

But I will still use you to hold the children I raise. Children from another woman's belly. I will rest them on my hips, their legs will brush up against you and I hope you will still feel the excitement my heart will feel. The commitment to their wellbeing in my brain will hopefully give you a sense of purpose.

As I grow older, I hope to write more letters to you like this. Thanking you for being a part of me. Thanking you for nourishing me daily. Promising to never hate you, abuse you, or go on horrible diets to shrink you. I ask that in return you remain good to me. If you can help it. Digest my food, weather through my periods. I ask that you keep doing these two things. 

With that request, I bid you farewell. JK you're right here no matter what. You will certainly be here on this turkey day, where I will full you to your brim, and then some. Thank you. I love you. Keep growing the way you feel fit. 

Sincerely,

Sydney

Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

Modern Love Podcast

Tonight, I was walking into my apartment with a dear friend. We were talking about podcasts while we ascended and descended the many stairs to my apartment (you'd have to see it to understand). I mentioned that I'm currently listening to a podcast called Modern Love. Not originally a podcast, Modern Love is a reader submitted column in the New York Times. For 13 years people have been writing essays about their marriages, divorces, almost lovers, abortions, births and manic pixie dream girls. The podcast features actors reading these essays, followed by updates on the writer's life after the essay was published. It's food for my optimistic soul. I was telling all of this to Laura then right as we approached my front door, I said a sentence that I haven't stopped thinking about since. A sentence that would NEVER have come out of my mouth for the last 6 years. A sentence that warmed my chest as it escaped my painted lips. A sentence that is not new or revolutionary to the world, but only to me.

I said, "I don't have a love life right now so it's really good to..." blah blah blah. "I don't have a love life right now."

This sentence was said with the most respect for myself I have ever had. Most of my days, when I mention being single it would be more passive and more self deprecating. More like, "Since nobody is trying to get in this." I would hurt to say those words. Even mentioning I didn't have a suitor or men chasing after me shook my self worth. It seemed to be one of the plates I was always spinning. Crushing on men, going on dates with men, falling in love with men; these were always in my queue. My love life was my life. How I was doing with that, was how I was doing period. It was exhausting.

When I said the sentence above, I didn't lower my eyes or try to say it in a funny voice. I just said it. I just meant it. My love life does not have a stake in my emotions and how I spend my time right now. It just doesn't. Don't get me wrong, I think about men daily. I think about improvisers I would love to smooch but can't because, well, they're improvisers , co-workers whose sleeves show off their rowers arms, The Birthday Boys sketch group (every hour). I think about these men. But I don't long for these men. I don't change the way I speak to them. I don't change the way I act to please them. I don't change my volume while talking to my friends to get their attention. I just live within the moments I spend with them. It's no longer predatory. It's just real. Honest. Bravely being me without PRAYING someone falls in love with it.

I don't have a love life right now. I'm spending my life loving me with no guarantee a man will too and it still feels pretty damn good.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Dear 18 year old me,

Dear 18 year old me,

What's Up? Ha. Well I already know what's up. I lived through it. So yes, you will live through this. You're sexually active now. Cool! Congrats. I guess. It's such a huge thing for you right now. It's changing your idea of who you are every second since it started. You now think, "If I'm not going to be virgin until marriage, I must lean into being a whore." These are evil thoughts and will lead you to make some horrible decisions. These thought will also lead you to believe that the way men treat you during sex is justified and just the way sex works. You've been taught in church so many wonderful things but the one down fall, as you are coming to realize, is how a healthy sexual relationship feels. You've been taught over and over about the consequences of having sex before marriage. That's really all you've been taught. So your brain has resigned to thinking that because you're having sex, all the bad parts are supposed to be happening.

Remember the first time when you were bleeding down your leg? Remember when you pushed on his shoulder and he didn't stop? Remember when you thought, "He doesn't care if I'm uncomfortable. This is what sex is." Well, just so you know in the coming years, the fear in that story will fade from you entirely. You will tell that story as one of your best stand up routines. It will become your coping mechanism. It has a very good punchline. Probably a hundred of people over 5 years will laugh at your red handed joke. You will laugh at the red handed joke. The man in the red handed joke will tell you he remembers what kind of burrito he had in his coat pocket that night but because he was so drunk, he can't remember your naked body up against the shower faucet bleeding, cold and on the verge of tears. He will become a dear friend. I still hold him as a dear friend despite all of this.

Then one day, 5 years later, sexual assault will become a daily topic. You will post a "Me too" status (you'll understand in 2017/Harvey Weinstein is a sexual predator and so is our president but I'm not going to ruin the fun surprise of who that is). You will regret that because you feel like you haven't really been through that. Your motivation for posting that comes from another experience where you went to a prominent Cincinnati comedian’s apartment to hook up, didn't, told him you were going to sleep on his couch, then woke up later to his naked body on top of you begging for a blowjob. You'll do it because you're afraid of him for reasons you can't explain. You will never call that anything because you were lucky enough to move to Chicago the next week. You’ll only bring this up to two friends and one of them will tell an entire room of comedians that this man raped you. You will never trust that person ever again. You will never talk about it to anyone again.

A week after the "Me Too" status, you'll remember the actual story from your first time I told above. The fear and the loneliness and the pain you felt. You'll realize you will never call it anything other than an unfortunate first time.  18 year old you believed when you have sex before marriage, you are supposed to be uncomfortable, hurt and you deserve what's coming. 23 year old you can't change her story now. After all, it gave her 5 years of great stand up material.

So moving forward with your sexual life know that you have the right to say "No" or "Stop" or "I would like you to use protection" or "I'm uncomfortable with that specific sex act." or "I don't want to have sex anymore." You have the RIGHT to say no in a hundred different ways even if he’s begging you. You won't for many years. For that, I am so sorry.

I love you, enjoy the rest of college and spoiler alert Donald Trump has the nuclear codes now.

Warmly,
23 year old me

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

The Price You Pay.

Pinterest presented me with a quote (by "presented" I mean, I scrolled through Pinterest in my bed for hours to find) that captures a feeling I've been trying to articulate for a very long time. It reads:

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for loving and knowing people in more than one place."

I don't know the joy of a parent when they meet their baby for the first time. I have no clue what doctors feel when they save a person's life for the first time. Heck, I barely even know what it's like to live in the same place for more than 10 years.

But I do know that I know a wealth of beautiful, intelligent, empathetic, funny, cocky, insane, competent, lovely people. Whether it's the drunk (and incredibly honest) people on my tour, the Parisians I met in a bar off the main drag in France or just living in the 3rd largest city where I see hundreds of different people a day just on the train going to and from work, I have seen/met a surprising amount of people in my 23 years. I have seen hundreds of distinct wrinkles, heard hundreds of belly laughs, and smelled the natural (or unnatural) perfumes of hundreds of people who have lives just as complex and nuanced as my own. I've argued with men I met 20 minutes prior when they said A Hard's Days Night has no redeeming qualities. I've commiserated with women in long bathroom lines whose bladders are full of cheap whiskey, who want to get back to their friends just as much as I do thus we become friends with each other. I've learned how to say "Fuck off" in French while drinking Absinthe.

Don't get me wrong, there are days when I wonder if I'm happy without a place to call my forever home. I think, "Would having a mortgage make me happier than having a lease?" I have friends with kids and husbands and ex-husbands. When I see the look on their faces when they look at their bundles of joy or their soulmate, I always question my own life. In recent years while I'm thinking this and looking at their pictures or listening to their experiences, I start to notice something familiar. Something that I've known intimately. The glimmer in their eyes isn't just the look of a new parent or a newlywed. It's pure joy. It is the same glimmer I get when I'm improvising with people I love or in rehearsal with some of the funniest people I've had the pleasure of knowing or meeting someone from a different side of the world who I can talk to for hours. It is the look of belonging.

But with all of this comes a tinge of loneliness. Those wonderful moments of joy are scattered in with hours of mediocre moments. That's okay. That makes those big moments so much better.

It gives me solace that when I get to age or a city I want to settle down in or a person I want to settle down with, I know that I have seen as much of the world as I possibly could. I can't regret my lonely 20s. Those years shaped the confident, strong, and worldly woman that I will become. She will not apologize for taking her time. She looked into the eyes of strangers and soon after called them friends. She loved. She existed. She cared. She adored every minute of it. She LIVED.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

I Believe...

Here's a small list of things I believe, take em or leave em:

-Mayonnaise is nasty.

-Bacon flavored chapstick is worse.

-Shaving your legs is a tradition that was made up as another way for women to feel inferior. HOWEVER, putting my cleanly shaved legs into my bed after I have washed my sheets is orgasmic.

-Statewide Abstinence-Only sex ed is the best way to make sure your state's teen pregnancy rates skyrocket.

-Women are amazing.

-Men can be amazing.

-My friend Barbara makes the prettiest babies.

-My nieces are smarter than me already. The oldest is 7.

-Wrecking Ball is the one of the greatest pop songs of the 21st Century.

-Guns do damage that is quick and permanent. I CAN'T BELIEVE that people are so cavalier about that.

-The NRA doesn't care about your rights. They care about making money off you wanting to exercise your rights.

-French Vanilla creamer is sent from the Gods.

-Empathy is the greatest quality a human can possess.

-Paul Ryan wants to take away poor people's healthcare.

-I have some form of chronic depression or anxiety and it sneaks up on me at weird times (Ex: yesterday before Best Buds at iO Saturdays nights at Midnight. I know you haven't been yet. Just come already!).

-Anna Faris is very good.

-All of my friends are better than all of your friends.

-Friends the TV show doesn't hold up.

-The 90s weren't as cool as you think.

-The 20s weren't as cool as you think.

-The 1520s AD weren't as cool as you think.

-Cat Booty is the best thing I've ever stumbled backwards into.

-My mom is better than French Vanilla creamer.


Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

O-H

I wrote this a week ago. My feelings remain the same.***



***2 hours ago, I was on a Megabus listening to melancholy songs while staring at the Chicago skyline. Returning from Ohio, I was ready to be back to my chosen place of residence. The place I knew would be MY PLACE from the moment I stepped foot in it 8 years ago. I still feel incredibly lucky to live here but going back to Ohio brought all kinds of new feelings of gratitude and belonging.

With this visit now over, I can say that I have learned two things. 

1) Dayton, OH feels more like my home than the cornfields of New Carlisle, OH in which I actually grew up. 

New Carlisle is where I rode my bike to see my friends, had my first kiss, and felt my first real heartbreak. It's where my mother chose to raise me and my brothers and where she put her blood, sweat and tears into being a mother and a remarkable teacher. It's where I learned to act and sing. It's where I found my faith in God. It's where I met women who will be in my life forever and will always feel the most my self around. 

Dayton is where I drove my car to see my friends, lost my virginity, and dealt with multiple small heartbreaks. It's where my costume teacher took the reigns from my mother and ushered me, somehow kindly and forcefully, into a self actualizing adulthood. It's where I began my stand up and improv career. It's where I lost my faith in God. It's where I learned to sew. It's where I met another life long friend with my same name. 

Both of these places made me the woman that I am. But in one of them, I actually FELT like a woman. Dayton is truly where I "grew up". Not where I spent my childhood or turned 18. I GREW UP. I made many adult mistakes while still acting like a child. I woke up from my small town stupor and realized I don't want to be immature my whole life. I feel thankful. 

2) My home will always the people I love, not the town I'm in. 

Chicago has felt incredibly lonely at times. I'd say about 70% of my time here I have been alone. I don't mean alone as in physically. I have been surrounded by people on train, at a bar, at work while still feeling like I'm not with anyone but myself. That may sound sad. It's truly not. It's the way I prefer to be. Publicly alone. I get to think and plan and write in my head while simultaneously watching people do the same. It's something that has always made me feel very comfortable.
Ohio is so different. It's a place where you can very easily be physically alone all the time. You drive to work alone, you can live in a house alone, you can take a walk almost completely alone. It comforts a lot of my friends but wigs me the fuck out. If I ever get kidnapped and murdered, I guarantee it will be in Ohio.
Besides my distain for small town living, I found that connection with the people you do see can be so much stronger. My affection is still intact with my dearest and oldest friends. The main example from this last trip was when I got the pleasure of going to meet my best friend from high school's new baby girl, Scarlet. I went with my closest high school girlfriends and I'm telling you, I could have stayed with them forever. The laughter was loud and robust and it filled Alison's little car. The house was full of loving looks, discussion of weddings, further education and sharing of important information. I remembered why I spent so much time with these women when we were young. How they fill my heart with so much excitement for life. Part of me wanted to move back just to be close to them again. But then I remembered myself, "You hate this place and you will get snatched in a cornfield if you move back." So I hugged them all and said a silent prayer that maybe they'll take a trip up North to my new home.

When I moved away, something in my heart knew I couldn't stay in Ohio. I couldn't live my best life and grow as a person there. But something I never anticipated was how thankful I would be to go back. So elated to visit and remember where I came from, where my winding road began. The people that changed me. The people whose hearts fill mine so easily. I never knew I'd look back so fondly at the times I spent there while I also see the same people in my future.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

The Long Way Around by The Dixie Chicks

Good afternoon folks. It's your old pal, Sydney! Today, I woke up at noon, walked to Walgreens to get creamer in sweatpants, called my best friend, found out my bank account was disgustingly overdrawn while I was asleep, and swept all the floors in my new apartment. 

I often have mornings like this. Starting my day with solitude is common for me and preferred. I enjoy waking up next to someone but need these days alone to center myself. The kind of days where I change from the pjs I wore to bed into a new "daytime" set of pjs. The kind of days where I sit on my porch and stare into the back alley, thanking the universe and Chicago for everything. The kind of days when I get time to talk to myself out loud instead of in my head. Things get confusing and clogged up there. It's nice to speak to myself like I would a friend. These days are few and far between but lovely and welcome.

I'm 23 years old and I wonder often if this is going to be my life forever. Will I always have an opposite schedule of the people I live with? Will I always live with someone? Will I ever stop accidentally overdrawing my fucking account?! These questions are common in my head. At this age, I feel like I'm just starting to DECIDE what kind of woman I want to be. Up until now, it felt like joy, pain, depression, it felt like it all happened to me. All of these things informed my personality, emotions got to decide the kind of woman I am on any given day. A few months ago, I finally felt like I have control over my reactions and emotions. My major insecurities don't feel insurmountable anymore. They are just moments I have to walk away and talk myself off the ledge. I have some sense of control. I feel like this is something everyone around me learned years ago. I've always learned the hard way. My new favorite song is The Long Way Around by the Dixie Chicks. The last chorus goes like this:

"Well, I never seem to do it like anybody else

Maybe someday, someday I'm gonna settle down

If you ever want to find me, I can still be found

Taking the long way

Taking the long way around"

This isn't only relevant to my emotional state but also my education and financial situation. I'm also aware The Dixie Chicks are talking about being successful while being different and I'm talking about fucking up over and over again. BUT LYRICS ARE ALWAYS UP FOR INTERPRETATION!!!

With all that solitude and fucking up, there also comes self actualization and independence. I feel more and more myself every day. I feel like I no longer do things out of fear of rejections...most of the time. I'm saying no when necessary. I'm letting people know when I'm uncomfortable. Or as the Dixie Chicks put it: 

"Well, I fought with a stranger, and I met myself

I opened my mouth and I heard myself

It can get pretty lonely when you show yourself

Guess, I could have made it easier on myself

But, I, I could never follow"

I think after I heard this song, the only question I should be asking myself is, "When you open your mouth, do you hear yourself?" 

Today, I say yes. 

But mainly because I'm talking to myself and my new place has an echo. 

Thanks for listening. Come back for more. 

Fight Me.

I just recently remembered why I started this blog. Even though it is a huge cliche, I wanted to track my early 20s. This time is messy and I wanted it all on tape. Well, online I guess. So I'm going back to my roots and starting this bad boy up again with the hope of bringing clarity to my life. Please enjoy.

Today, I'm moving and I won't start moving until 5pm when I get my Uhaul. I'm already packed (the side effect of previous restless feelings) and I don't have much money to go buy a bunch of new stuff. So I went to Emerald City and I started writing this. I'm reminding myself how much my fingers love to hit the keys; how at home I feel sipping my coffee every couple of seconds, munching my burrito every couple of minutes. My soul longs to express itself and this feels like a cold sip of water.

ALSO! Yesterday was my 3 year anniversary of living in Chicago! It overwhelms me how much I have experienced in this city. I tried to write some quirky status last night about how I've lived here for 1,095 days and I only cried 500 of those days.  That didn't feel like enough. This place changed my life. It has opened my eyes to how small I am. It has showed me how big I can feel when I'm on stage and doing well. It has held my hand as I realized I'm so flawed and there is so much work to do within myself but it has given me some of the people that have helped me become a better, more socially aware person. It has gotten me listening to RAP (and drunkenly posting on Facebook telling all my white christian friends to listen to it). It's constantly teaching me how to be kinder; there are so many people in this city who are hurting and need the same love and patience as I crave.

There are plenty of mistakes I've made while living here. My work ethic improved in Chicago but is nowhere as good as it needs to be to get me into the career I aspire to be a part of. I've met so many talented, empathetic, socially aware, funny people and even if I quit tomorrow and move back to Ohio, I thank the Universe that I got to spend time with some of the greatest minds of my generation at a time when we're all just trying to stay above water.

I'm eternally grateful for my friends. I'm eternally grateful for my life. I'm eternally grateful for Chicago.


Oh. Lou Malnati's has the best deep dish, Pizano's has the best thin crust. FIGHT ME.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Art School Drop Out

This morning, I had breakfast with my dear friend, Lily. We've known each other since 2nd grade and I'm very blessed to still have her in my life. She is currently in medical school and I'm an accidental college drop out. Today, we ate and talked about our lives. We talked about where we are and where we want to go. Our lives are so incredibly different but somehow we can always come together and find parallels in the lessons life is teaching us. I'm incredibly proud of her and I hope she's proud of me.

I know what you're thinking, "Wait, wait, wait! Sydney what do you mean 'accidental college drop out'? What the hell does that mean?"

Oh yeah. I didn't actually graduate college! Ha! I lied to everyone! Sorry.

Going into my Comedy Studies semester, I was already a super senior. I was careless with my schedule the year before and only took the minimum classes required for financial aid. My silly ass didn't do the math. By the end of my Comedy Studies semester (what I hoped would be my last semester), I was 7 credit hours short. 7 CREDIT HOURS! That's part-time! That's nowhere near done.

Now, I know what you're thinking again. "Okay. If you did Comedy Studies in Fall then just finish up the rest in the Spring!"

Funny story...

My financial aid ran out during Comedy Studies! I still owe money for that semester! So instead of paying that off and going back to school, I went to Europe. I saw the canals in Amsterdam, Notre Dame, Sagrada Familia and drank so much Cafe con Leche. It was a marvelous trip that I used to say I wouldn't trade for anything. Now I realize I might have traded it for a college degree. I put myself even more in debt to go on a trip to prove I could be adventurous. It was my favorite mistake.

Flash forward to me now. I've been trying to look for work and it's been incredibly difficult. I see the words "Bachelor's Degree" under requirements and I mentally kick myself. I'm lucky to have the tour but it doesn't have benefits and interferes with comedy. Feeling that I hit a dead end, I met with my advisor and we figured out a plan to get me graduated. Step two is getting funding to get me graduated. This will be a much more difficult step.

"Sydney. Why are you telling me this?"

When I was younger, I was very open book. I told people too much. For some reason, I have always felt like if someone asks, they deserve to know. As I get older this is becoming less and less true. Oversharing is not good for me or my relationships. I'm learning some information is for close friends and others just for me.
This would have been one of those pieces of information just for me and my closest friends. But instead of being vague with people when they asked me how life was going, I lied. I said I graduated to make myself sound accomplished and I was embarrassed to be 23 without a college degree. So instead of saying, I'm still working on my degree, I lied. I straight up lied. I lied to people on my tour, I lied to my friends, I even lied to my mom. I was so ashamed.

But I'm done lying. I'm not perfect. I have always learned my life lessons the hard way. From losing my virginity in a bathtub to losing a friend's trust by not being supportive. I fly high and fall hard. Hitting the ground isn't pleasant but it's necessary. With each fall, I get to learn how to fly again and better than the last time.  This is what makes me love my life. I'm proud of being college educated and now my next adventure is getting the slip of paper that proves it.

And hey! Maybe now, I can take that Solo Performance class everybody talks about. Lord knows I got some shit to say.

Thanks for listening. Come back for more.

Prohibition, The F Word and Me.

“This is a 21 and up drinking tour about breaking the law in the United States for 13 years. That is a very adult topic. I am assuming that since you bought tickets for this tour you are adults who can handle such adult topics. I do know what some of you are thinking right now. 'Why is that 12 year old girl telling me I’m an adult?' I am an adult and I’m old enough to be leading this tour. As an adult, I will be using colorful language. So get used to it pretty fucking quick because it’s just gonna start rolling out.” –Sydney Back, Chicago Prohibition Tours Disclaimer

This tiny blurb of a disclaimer changed the way my tour sees me.

I started working for Chicago Prohibition Tours in June of 2015. By July 2015, I had been told 3 separate times that the tour was interesting enough without cursing. I was told by a woman two women over 40 and a review on the tour’s website. I began to wonder whether I was coming on too strong. I softened up for a couple of weeks afraid to say a single bad word. I started replacing “shit” with “crap” and “fuck” with “freak”. I eventually started to realize that I didn’t like to say those words. One of the reasons I signed on to do this tour was because my boss cussed in his tour. It made me feel like my stand up background would finally be useful in a job setting. It felt wrong that I was being told to stop doing one of the main things I liked about the tour in the first place. The no nonsense, adult attitude of the tour. As I was talking about Carrie Nation smashing up bars, the Anti-Saloon League threatening and bribing politicians, and watching all of these tourists enjoy high quality cocktails, I was being told that, “the cussing was too much.” 
I quickly realized it wasn’t me as a tour guide or the tour itself. There was a factor that I had not ever come into contact with until now.

You see, my boss, a burly, bearded Chicago native in his 30s was wrote and lead the tour for the first year after its inception. He immediately has agency in front of large groups of people.

I was a 21 year old blonde haired blue eyed woman. Most of our tour demographic have children my age. I’m from Ohio which means if someone were to walk up to me right now and push me, I would apologize to them. I had never had a public speaking job unless you consider asking customers if they want a Target Red Card a performance. I admit I was nervous. But I loved the history I was regurgitating and was trying to get better even on my days off. I remember being in the shower, on the train, in bed, reciting the tour. I didn’t want to be the reason a customer didn’t understand or love this history.

Too much cussing still seemed like a strange critique. I thought one of the most interesting parts of the tour was the ability to cuss and call out bull shit.

In the back of my head there was always a little voice telling me what it probably was. A young woman cussing. How horrible. They didn’t care about the opinions that I gave but the words I used to give those opinions. The “F’ word was a no-no but comparing the brainwashing tactics of the WCTU to the Nazi’s was perfectly understandable. It wasn't me. It was people's perceptions of me, what they thought a girl should or shouldn't be doing or saying. 

Since that time, I have not backed down from the cussing. I say the disclaimer at the top of this post as a way to show my dominance. I agree it’s a little harsh but I know that I have to work twice as hard for people to respect me. I didn’t do the research. I didn’t write the tour. I do give the information in a way that keeps people coming back. I love the information, history, lessons to be learned from this era and want to share it with others. I’m no longer going to put up with bull shit. There is one big lesson I’ve learned from my 3 years in Chicago and 2 years of doing this tour: Sometimes people need to be told, “fuck off”. If you don’t like a 21 and up tour where a grown ass woman cusses, maybe you should stay home. We have plenty of customers that either love it or are old enough to put aside a few cuss words in the name of history.  

I'm happy to say that in the last year and a half, there have been no more complaints for my cussing. To to that I say, "fuck yeah!" 

Thanks for listening. Come back again.