December 30th, 2015

Pregnancy scares bring out every couples true colors. 36 hours ago, my colors were blazing.

Monday night, I went to Columbus. I was celebrating my oldest friend Lily's birthday with our friend Robin. We had a fantastic time eating gigantic sandwiches and laughing over old times. It was a splendid evening with good company. The whole time, though, I had another reason for going to the capitol of Ohio. One word: Charles. The C word met us at the Dube after all of our giggles started to get tired. He came in like he always does with shifty eyes and hands in his pockets. It's always nerve wracking when your boyfriend is meeting your friends. It's even more nerve wracking when your ex-boyfriend/current lover is meeting your conservative christian friends. As usual, it took time to warm up but within 10 minutes we were all laughing and joking. Soon, it was time for my friends to go back to reality in New Carlisle. I said goodbye to them and walked to Charles' apartment with my book bag full of clothes and toiletries.

Romance and nudity ensued for a couple of hours. We missed each other and it was very evident in our frustration about his roommate wanting to hang out. At roughly 2am, we were "going at it" and I hear a noise so terrifying, it sends shivers up your spine. The condom broke as he was blasting off. A panic ensues and I run to the bathroom to "wash it out" which my many health classes have taught me doesn't really work. But hey, this is a pregnancy were talking about. I've got too many things I'd like to do to my body, like eat sushi and smoke cigars when other people have "planned" babies. My hot, young life flashed before my eyes in a way it never had before. After I finished my pointless washing, I went back downstairs and hugged Charles with all the muscles in my arms and body. He reminded me of Plan B and we began to breathe again. But the breaths came with fears. We began realizing that we were playing with fire here. Not just by having sex with only one form of protection, but emotionally. We began to wonder why we were still pretending like this relationship was normal. Every time I came into town, we would play house for a couple of days and then went back to our lives alone. We started realizing that we weren't sure whether we were doing "this" because we actually care about each other or whether we were doing "this" because we were lonely and wanted to pretend that we have someone even if it's just for a little while.

After tears and threats of walking out, we decided that night would be our last for a long time. We decided we needed to do some soul searching away from each other. Though we were no longer together, we had been talking regularly since our break up, as you've heard in this blog. This "accident" made me realize that I love my life right now more than him. I need to know what life would be like without anyone to think about romantically. As I keep claiming, comedy is my one true love.

By the end of this conversation, I wasn't sad with this decision. I just wanted to spend another day with him before the end. I told him I was staying and we went to sleep.

The next day was amazing. We hung out with his friends, ate lots of food, and drank lots of alcoholic beverages. As we spent this day together, I started to feel happy with the decision. We both need this. How can I be sad about spending many months with someone who made me happy every moment we were in the same room? I can't so I'll move on. I already did once before. Except this time, it's for real.

So on the date in the title of this blog, we will meet again and see what whole year can do. I miss him dearly but I know, and 4 months in Chicago has proven, I will be okay. 

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Gifts from my Valentine

As I'm going through my grieving process, I keep feeling the need to remember Dave in the best way. Though there is lots of anger, I refuse to focus on that. He was my friend and I loved him, so as a friend I need to remember him at his best. Most people say his best attribute was his generosity. He was ALWAYS willing to lend a helping hand in any way possible. He helped me move into my apartment, listened to me cry over boys, and stopped me from over thinking when I was upset with the world. He did a lot for me. He also gave me a lot of stuff. He bought me presents for each Christmas we knew each other and the one birthday we were friends. He gave me a couple of other gifts as well. I want to take a minute and share some of the things Dave gave to me.

-1 copy of Scott Pilgrim VS The World (movie)
-1 bath
-1 vibrator
-99 orgasms via aforementioned vibrator
-7 bowls of rice and chicken
-1 incredible Valentines Day
-2 kisses
-9 compliments on my butt
-1 lesson on the falsehood of jeans in terms of butt size
-60 more years of love for rock climbing
-10-20 free movies
-Countless rides
-1 piece of mind
-20+ frights
-2 heart attacks
-1 broken heart
-100 tears from laughing with him
-1000 tears from living without him
-3 trips to a graveyard
-2 letters he'll never read
-1 friendship worth millions
-1 legacy to honor
-0 more years with him


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"I bathed you"

Dear Dave,

            I don’t know where you are right now. I honestly have no idea. If there is a heaven, you are undeniably there but I’m just not sure. Like I’ve told you before, I really hope there are extreme sports in heaven. Mike recently gave me comfort by reminding me that if there isn't a rock wall in heaven, you are without a doubt building one. You were an adrenaline junkie with a flare for words. You would do things that I couldn’t even imagine doing and then play them back to me with your words. You were a master story teller. You told stories like it was your job, like your life depended on it and any other cliché phrase you want me to use. I try to retell the Tequila Story just like you but I know I never will. That’s okay. I hit the key points that you loved the most. I know you loved when I put the body wash in my hair. Right now, I see you. I can hear your voice repeating this story. I can see your eyes light up when you say, “I bathed you.” Three words that showed exactly how much you needed to take care of someone. I did that for you. I grew out of it though. You took care of me until the day I asked you to stop. I never took care of you and for that I’m so sorry. I was there for you as much as I could be. You showed me so much of the world. You made me independent and brave. Two things I needed. I will never be able to thank you.

           Justin gave me the card from “Edna” last night. He started to “read it” and it took me a second to get who Edna was. Once I realized it, I lost it. Tears were flowing and I was laughing at the exact same time. Edna feels like another friend I lost. As the tradition goes, the cards gets thrown into the audience. After he read the card, Justin looked me in the eye and threw it right to me. Dave, I wrinkled the card I clutched it so hard. It felt like it was really from you. I kept it with me for the rest of the night except once when it touched the Warped Wing’s floor. It’s under my pillow right now.         They would have made you proud last night, Dave. Your stage, like you, supported them and took care of them. It helped them deal with your absence. For an hour they got back to doing what you loved and what they loved doing with you. You would have laughed at them and with them. Calling them out on their inconsistencies and praising them for their genius. I can’t imagine how much better the night would have been with you, Dave. I'll write you again on Tuesday.

                                                                                

                                                                                 Much Love,

                                                                                    Your #2

David Michaels

Yesterday, I was taking a nap that could have arguably been considered a nights rest. When I awoke from this slumber, I had many texts from my good friend Ashley saying to call her asap. I naturally followed the instructions and was met with the heaviest news I've ever received.
"David Michaels passed away."
My jaw dropped. My tears fell. My "what"'s echoed.
I couldn't believe it.

For those who don't know, David Michaels was unlike any other. He was bold, intelligent, daring, idiotic, hilarious, and blunt. David Michaels was the kind of person you want to go into any post apocalyptic situation with. He had a contingency plan for every situation in his car, including a hatchet behind his drivers seat in the Prius.

Oh that Prius. I spent many days and nights in that car with him. Sometimes crying, sometimes laughing. Mostly laughing. He always had a way of cracking me up. I think that was true for everyone. Dave had a way with words and people. That's why he was so great at improv. He was one of the most quick witted people in the greater Dayton area.

Dave had a passion for life. He really did. The phrase, "Lived life to the fullest" doesn't even begin to define him. He took never took no for an answer, even when he probably should have. This passion was one of his greatest attributes and very contagious.

Dave and I were very close for about a year and a half. We were so close that we joked that I felt like I was dating him more than my boyfriends during that period. We climbed together, improvised together, and watched movies together. I slept in his bed, he slept in mine. One of his favorite stories from our friendship is referred to as "Tequila Night". Dave and I finished an entire bottle of tequila in two and a half hours. Dave had eaten a real meal, I had eaten Funyons and Lifesavers gummies. After some very deep talks, I proceeded to lay down on his air mattress in his studio apartment. Moments after, I began vomiting in an almost movie perfect way. My head was turned to the side so there was no fear of choking but I'll remind you that when a person is on an air mattress they sink into it. Thus my vomit felt the need to roll down hill. I hope you're really understand the imagery here. Vomit in my hair, on my clothes and on his sheets. Dave's first reaction was to drag me into the bath room and proceed to bathe me, wash my hair and put me in clean clothes. He changed his sheets and let me go back to sleep. Though that story is crazy and disgusting, it is very telling of Dave's character. He took care of me. No matter how mad I got at him, I knew he loved me and would murder someone for me if I asked. He cared about many people this way.

Dave and I had a falling out in February. He pushed a boundary and I ran as far away from him as possible instead of working it out. My guilt now is overwhelming.  I wish that I could thank him for the summer we spent together and for being a great friend. I really wish I could.

Dave was many things to many people. Performer, employee, lover, teacher, son, ex. But I think we can all agree on one thing. He was a friend. A very good friend. A friend that will be dearly and somberly missed. I wish that he would have known how hurt the city of Dayton, and two apartments in Chicago, are at the news that he will no longer exist in our lives. Maybe that would have helped.

I know you always said, "When I die, I won't care because I'll be dead." but if you were wrong, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I took you for granted and you didn't deserve that. I love you and I hope where ever you are has rock climbing.

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The Summer of 2013

This morning, I was having a conversation with my roommate about how writing helps us. As she was reading her poems to me, I was reminded of my writing past. All of a sudden, I had a flashback of writing at Riverscape Park in Dayton. That park was my sanctuary during that difficult summer and I spent many (unsafe) nights and days there writing my feelings. They were all collected in a notebook made for me by my best friend, Cydnie. After I had this epiphany, I jumped up and grabbed it from my shelf and began reading. This journal includes love letters, journal entries, stand up jokes, and a suicide note, written just in case. It was a weird summer. Some of the quotes are funny, some are sad and some are enlightening. They show where I've been and just how far I've come. So I would like to share some of these with you.

"I love coming to Riverscape. It's one of the only places in Dayton that doesn't smell like fecal matter. The flowers cover that up quite nicely. It makes me feel beautiful sitting among the flowers and trees. Like I 'm a part of the scenery. I can clear my head when I'm just scenery. I see so many different people. Families, elderly women, athletic men. All here to escape in some way or another. Even with kids yelling, it's quieter than in my head. I fight with myself. Thinking I don't matter. But I know that isn't true. I have made a difference no matter how small. I have loved and been loved."

"I'm oh so very lonely. I'm so lonely, I'm driving to OSU to bump Matt Ross in a couple of weeks. I feel like I should have sex with my first love. I need to know what he looks like naked and on top of me. I also want to know what it's like to have sex in a dorm bed. Maybe I'm trying to recreate a time when I was happy and innocent, then fuck the shit out of it. I also really want to have dorm room sex. Shoo-ing the roommate, sock on the door, the whole shabang."
(SIDE NOTE: This did not happen!)

"I'm about to watch Cydnie and Kevin perform As You Like It. It's weird to think that a year ago I was sitting in my apartment with no internet or TV and Taylor and Erin were my only "friends" in Dayton. Now I'm sitting in a park alone waiting to watch two of my best friends perform Shakespeare. This may not be the life I imagined but it sure is the one I love. One year ago, I was a virgin. Today, I'm watching the man who took my virginity play a prince and he is one of my best friends." 

 "I just gave a guy a blowjob and I don't even know his last name. This is rock bottom. But I was so drunk. And we had been giving each other "the eyes" all night. But then there's Jimmy."

"I am falling for Jimmy. He's not perfect but he's better than that. He's human."

"Jimmy and I have left the honeymoon phase. Officially."

 "I have been told my whole life, don't worship false idols, only God. But I never understood, until I realized something about myself. I don't worship idols, I fall in love with ideals. By ideals, I mean men that are 'perfect' or 'exactly what I've always wanted.' "

"I want to run away. Because that's what I do. I run. Fast enough that it seems perfect in hindsight."

"I feel like Katie is the sister my brothers always wanted. I am certain they would love a sister who plays sports and loves basketball. But I'm me. I love theater and talking about my feelings."

"May 14th 2013
I had a pregnancy scare last week. It would have been Josh's. I hated not being able to tell Cydnie or Katie but Josh and I vowed to keep our sex life to ourselves. I'm good with that."

"What if I was pregnant? Josh told me he would have stayed and moved in with me. For the first time in a long time, I felt comforted. He kept telling me, either way, we'll be fine. We will make it out alive. He was a man about it."

"Sometimes I think about what would happen if I killed myself. Would people be sad? Would they come to my funeral? What would they say? I hope I've made a difference in someone's life. That's all I want. To make a difference. However that may happen."

"Bucket List 2013
1) Live alone
2) Perform on the Second City stage (CHECK)
3) Be a Second City company member
4) Drink a beer at Lucky's (CHECK)
5) Perform stand up in Chicago (CHECK)
6)Meet Tina Fey
7) See 20 Broadway plays
8) Attend a major award show
9) Be nominated for an Oscar
10) Win an Emmy for writing
11) Be on TV
12) See John Mulaney live (CHECK)
13) See SNL in person (CHECK)
14) Buy my mom a house
15) Quit Target because of improv"


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OVER IT!

For the last couple of months, my incessant bitching about my ex, Charles, seemed exhausting. Every time I would type his name I thought, man people must be sick of me. I hated continuing to hash this out in the public forum, letting you guys watch me break down and admit some of the strongest feelings I've ever had but I felt like I had to. I know that I feel better when my feelings are typed out. That's why you'll find a 10 page document on my computer entitled, "Break Up Poetry Blah Blah Blah." I have to put it down to get it out. It's rather simple. So I wanted to give you one of my first real conclusions.

I'm over that boy now. The one I feared I would never replace. The one I imagined my life with. The one I "loved" more than anyone else. That one. I'm over him. How?, you ask. How is that possible? You talked so much about how in love you were with this man. How does that just go away? I have a simple answer that controlling people will hate: I just did.

I was on the phone with Charles last week and we were talking about something that was upsetting me and I just remember thinking, "This is it. You're done." Not in a, he's a piece of shit, kind of I'm done. Just a "You don't need to worry about this anymore." I was still upset over somethings in our relationship that I was always urked by. Things that were already silly to worried about when you're in a relationship and crazy to worry about when you're not. I realized I was putting a lot of pressure on something that didn't have to be that serious. Our relationship, or lack there of, wasn't enjoyable anymore because I wanted it to be more than it could be. I started to remember myself doing that in other relationships in the past. I remembered why I broke up with most of the men immediately after telling them I loved them. I wanted things to get serious and they didn't. So I felt like they didn't care and/or I stopped caring about them. If they weren't going to be my future, then goodbye. I wasn't interested in enjoying right now. I wanted husband material even though I boasted of not wanting to settle down for a long time. This applies to Charles too. He loved me. I believe that. I hear it in the old voicemails and the texts. But he didn't love me to the same degree. He wasn't looking for a future. He was looking for someone to be with him in those moments. He was living in the moment and he loved me for those moments. He wasn't looking at any rings or cribs because we weren't anywhere close. The problem was, I thought we were. I wanted a commitment so that I knew he wouldn't want to run away. That was something he couldn't give me. We barely knew each other. It makes total sense.

So I moved on. Now when I look at his pictures on Facebook and Instagram, I see an old friend. I no longer get the terrible ache I did before. Break up songs don't stab me as much as before. I know we weren't as wonderful together as I remembered (see 27 Hours: a previous blog post). I know commitment isn't in the plan of me. Comedy might be the only commitment I can make for a while. I know I'm not as important to him as I thought. So I let him go. I tell myself don't forget how you felt then but don't forget what you realized today. Take it slow and just live. Stop trying to plan. Just be 20 year old Sydney. I'll never be her again. Whether that's with or without love. Just be grateful for every breath and life will be good.  The past week has gone pretty well so my theory is proving correct.

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Pop Culture

         I’m starting to see the patterns of American culture. Everyone has an opinion on things that absolutely do not matter. Kim Kardashian’s butt, Taylor Swift pulling her music from a free music cite, and how all of those things matter more to us than astronauts landing on a comet. Why waste our breath? I’ve learned to try to say things that either make people laugh or make them think. Talking about those things does neither. I know, I’ve been to the open mics in Chicago. We get it. 

        Let's discuss dat ass (Kim Kardashian's Armenian treasure). Because of our Puritan roots, we’re upset that a woman showed two lumps of fat. If it makes you feel any better, that’s how that woman gets joy. By the amount of likes on her photos, the names on her clothing and the number dollars in her bank account. She is not striving to make a point or change the way the world sees body image. She is striving to make you talk about her. So congratulate her, don’t be mad. We get excited when the people in our real lives accomplish what they want, why not be excited for her? SHE DID IT! Well done Kim! Go eat a cake that costs more than my car and still pay your mortgage every month. I really don’t give a shit.

       But on the other hand with Taylor Swift, we’re mad because she isn’t giving us enough. With Kim, it’s an unsolicited amount of butt and with Taylor it’s a solicited amount of access to her music. Big deal. She made many different pieces of art and expects them to be paid for by the consumer. Let’s get equally mad and burn down all the Targets for making us love their products and purchase them with our hard earned money that we earn to buy their products. HOW DARE THEY! All I’m saying is, if you want the album, buy it, if you don’t, don’t buy it. She made art; whether you think it is or not, is irrelevant. She’s done more than most of us have done in our life times but we’re mad when she doesn’t make it easy to steal that hard work for our own pleasure and Spotify playlists.

         My point with all of this is that I’ve learned not to stress about this silly thing called Pop Culture. I do follow it a bit because I like to be up to date on what’s happening in it, but it does not keep me up at night and it definitely doesn’t consume my Facebook wall. There are so many other things to worry about in our lives. School work, friendships, relationships, finances, family, and even what you’re going to eat for lunch. These are much more worthy topics to worry about. Instead of talking about dat ass, try talking about why we’re on this earth. Instead of posting about T-Swizzle's "selfishness," try asking the person next to you how their parents met. HECK, go to a grocery store and ask the person in the deli what their passion is. I promise that will feel so much better. It will be a connection with a real human being, not the ones that live thousands of miles away that we think we know because they live in our screens on a daily basis. Real people are more interesting. I PROMISE.

Welp. That’s my twice cents (aka the exact amount of money in my checking account), love it or leave it. I know me saying this will not stop you from posting about it on our modern day soap box but I thought I’d get my opinion out there as well.

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