40 Before 40

We spend a lot of time making lists of things we still want to do with our lives. You can find I don't even know how many articles about 30 Things to do Before You Turn 30, or 30 Books to Read Before you Turn 30, or 30 Countries to Visit Before you Turn 30 or whatever. You name it, there is a listicle telling what you need to do before that magical day when you turn 30.

Well, I'm about to leave my thirties for the next rather arbitrary adventure, and I'll be honest here, I've been having a bit of a rough go of it lately. Things were looking a bit grim and scary, and it was looking like I was going to kick off my fourth decade with nary a penny to my name, in desperate need of both a vacation and some new underwear. Thankfully, a lot of the things that were scary and grim sorted themselves out so I am okay for the time being (though always looking for opportunities for improvement). But I haven't quite gotten out of the funk of it. When I look at those lists of things I was supposed to have done by now, there is a lot I still have left to do.

So I think I need to look at it another way. Here is a list of 40 things I did before I turned 40, in no particular order, so I have it. So I know my life has not been wasted or misspent. So I know I have good stories to tell.

1. I played Hamlet.
2. I played King Lear.
3. I was in a play for two years straight (Floss!).
4. I starred in more than one movie.
5. I saw the Cubs win the World Series.
6. I caught Sam Mendes' attention with my very odd laugh.
7. I traveled to Australia by myself.
8. I traveled through Europe by myself.
9. I traveled through Europe with friends.
10. I saw the Grand Canyon and Mount Rushmore.
11. I fell in love.
12. I rode a camel.
13. I was sold for 80 camels while in Morocco.
14. I headlined the Elbo Room in Chicago playing songs I wrote with a band I put together.
15. I took second place in the Cabaret Division at the American Lindy Hop Championships with the Chicago Shag Team.
16. I got arrested for underage dancing.
17. I played my violin from memory in church when my pages were out of order.
18. I got cast in three plays within a month of moving to New York.
19. I moved to New York.
20. I made life-long friends.
21. I gave an epic best man speech at my best friend's wedding.
22. I met Frank Turner.
23. I spent a summer in Los Angeles.
24. I went to Comic Con. Twice.
25. I bought a car by myself.
26. I raised the sweetest of all possible sweet cats.
27. I built hats.
28. I got my first Shakespearean tattoo done by a lovely Polish man in Dublin, Ireland.
29. I made a dress out of paper clips and ribbon, and one out of playing cards.
30. I saw David Tennant play Richard II, saw David Bowie play Fashion, saw Moby, saw Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova (together and individually), saw Oingo Boingo, saw Tim Curry in Spamalot, saw Once in London.
31. I played all of the women in As You Like It (except Rosalind) at the same time.
32. I turned my year-long experiment with veganism into a 15-year (and counting) lifestyle change.
33. I broke someone's heart.
34. I got my heart broken.
35. I went into the ring at a capea. 
36. I voted for the first African American president of the United States. Twice.
37. I wrote and directed a musical for children.
38. I did a touring puppet show.
39. I faced my fears of speaking in public and singing in public and interacting with other humans so that I could become and actor and a musician whose videos and music have been seen and heard around the world.
40. I made people laugh.

Most of this stuff is not the kind of stuff that anyone else would look at and think anything of. It's not a resume that will land me in a hall of fame or win me awards. But I have done a lot with my life - this is by no means an exhaustive list. I'm not done with it, but I haven't been sitting around doing nothing. And considering that I started my life so scared of everything and so painfully shy, the fact that I am who I am now is pretty remarkable.

I'm not going to make a list of the next forty things I have to do before I turn 80. I'm going to see where my life takes me and hope for the best.

Someday

I don't remember the exact moment when I fell in love with the Cubs. The same way a person doesn't remember learning to love their parents or learning to chew solid food. I know that logically, there must have been a time in my life when I didn't know what the Cubs were, but I don't remember that time at all. I only ever remember being a Cubs fan.

I remember the little white transistor radio my mom had that only got AM stations, that she would use to listen to Cubs games. I remember Harry Caray and Steve Stone calling the games, and I remember being sad when Harry died, but relieved that he would never have to try to pronounce "Grudzielanek" or "Samardzija" backwards.

I remember going to my first Cubs game with my grandmother, my mom, and my brother, and letting the magic of Wrigley Field wash over me. That magic still exists there, every day, every time I walk into the stands. That first view of the field sets everything right with the world. Time stops. We are all made equal. We are all there to enjoy our time watching baseball, eating snacks we otherwise wouldn't allow ourselves, and cheering for our boys in pinstripes.

I remember my first Cubs crush on Shawon Dunston, soon to be followed by Kerry Wood, Mark DeRosa, and after a year of not allowing myself to like him because he had been with the Marlins who beat us the year before, Derrick Lee. I remember feeling a special bond with Keith Moreland because of the similarity of our last names, even though we've never met.

I remember getting excited in 1984, in 2003, in 2008, and in 2015, when it looked like we might finally win it all. I remember thinking that we were the best, no matter how many errors we made, how few runs we scored, or how the stats stacked up against us. I remember being devastated each time when what looked so easy for everyone else turned out to be so hard for us.

But mostly, I remember the love. I've been asked many times what the big deal is about the Cubs. They don't put on the offensive show that a lot of American League teams do, with fireworks going off for every home run. Wrigley is an old stadium, falling apart in places, that is missing the state of the art food courts and LED banners that tell us when to stand up and make noise. "It's just a baseball team." Except it's not. It is hope. It is a dream. It is a light that lets us know that no matter what happens today, there will be a tomorrow. There will be another chance. From Harry Caray to Pat Hughes, the fans are always brought into the games, welcomed as if each and every moment of each and every game could be the turning point that we've all been waiting for for 108 years. We lose, and we brush ourselves off and come back and play again. It has to take a lot of love for players like Kerry Wood and Greg Maddux to want nothing more than to come back to the Cubs to finish their careers, for men like Ernie Banks to dedicate themselves to the team and the organization long after retirement. It has to take a lot of heart to still show up to the ballpark and to still play as hard as you can every game for over a century without getting the one thing millions of people are hoping, dreaming, willing into existence - a World Series title. Because if we have the title, then maybe other people will finally listen when we say the Cubs are the best team in baseball. They always have been.

For my grandmother who lived her whole life without seeing the Cubs win it all.
For my mother who filled our house with baseball even before I knew what baseball was.
For Harry Caray who assured us that this day would come, as sure as God made little green apples, even though he's not here to see it.
For Ron Santo, who I'm sure would have had a heart attack in the booth if he had tried to call this series.
For Ernie Banks, who taught us all to be kind and gracious and to keep playing no matter what.
For Wood, Prior, DeRosa, Dawson, Lazzeri, Gossage, Sandberg, Maddux, Durham, Sutcliffe, Lee, Jenkins, Dunston, Dempster, Zambrano, Johnson, Barrett, Alou, Williams, Dean, Lindstrom, Zimmer, Wilson, Sutter, Boa, Smith, Moreland, Pappas, Brock, Ramirez, Kelly, Hornsby, Grace, Davis, Cey, and Brown who gave it their everything and never quite got there.
For Tinker.
For Evers.
For Chance.

This one is for you. This is your win. This is your year.

Thank you.

I don't remember the exact moment I fell in love with this team. I know I will never love another team in the same way. I will always be grateful that I got to see them make history, even from afar. Because if the Cubs can win the World Series, what else is possible?

Everything.

February 15 - Guarantee

I want a guarantee. 

I want a guarantee that at least one of my great big lofty dreams will come true. I want a guarantee that all of the work I have put in will result in one moment of glorious joy. I want a guarantee that if I lose twenty pounds, I will be cast in something opposite one of my idols. I want a guarantee that if I make a leap of faith, things will get better instead of worse. 

I want a guarantee. 

But there are no guarantees in life. It is entirely possible that I will spend my life in unpaid storefront theatres performing for audiences of three, working with other amazing artists who also somehow never get seen. It is entirely possible that I will never find a life partner. It is entirely possible that I will bounce from day job to day job, thankful for the employment but quietly dying inside. It is entirely possible that I could work out like crazy and starve myself to get the Hollywood body and still be miserable. There are no guarantees in life. 

So all I can do is dream and hope and work really hard. The trying is the only part over which I have control, so all I can do is try my hardest. 

It'd still be nice to have just one guarantee, though. 

July 16 - Coming Into Focus

I was walking down the street the other day, listening to music, enjoying the hot weather, and about a block ahead of me, I saw the figure of a man. He was standing in the shade, one arm folded in front of him like he was holding a beer, a bulldog sitting at his feet. I couldn't see his face, and for a moment, I allowed myself to fall in love with this man. I allowed myself to admire the beauty that is the male form - we talk about the female form all of the time and reduce it to its component parts, yet we often miss how graceful a man can be. The beauty of his component parts. His broad shoulders and small waist. His confidence, standing on the sidewalk on a summer night with his dog and a beverage. There was something so serene and "normal" about the scene that I let myself imagine he was holding the beer for me, waiting for me to come home from work so we could spend a summer evening just being quiet together. I fell in love with my imaginary life.  

As I got closer, though, I saw that the scenario I had dreamt up was nothing like the reality. The man was...worn, and not in an attractive way. He was grizzled and bitter, as if he was only outside with his dog and a beer because the dog had already peed on the living room carpet and he didn't want that to happen again, nor did he want to have to stop drinking. The dog was timid and slunk from me as I got closer, as if he had been previously told many times with varying amounts of anger not to greet strangers. As I passed, the man stepped toward the houses and turned his back to me, preferring to ignore the stranger.

I am sure I have lived this exact moment dozens of times before, but it hit me as a bigger moment this time around. How often have I seen a man from afar and allowed myself to fall in love, only to realize that in the close-up, we would rather pretend the other doesn't exist? How much of it has to do with him not living up to the expectations in my head? How much of it has to do with me not living up to his?

I have to think that at some point in my life, I will see a man from afar who will turn out to be exactly the person I hope he is, and I will be exactly the person he hopes I am, and we can stand out on the sidewalk with our dog and a beer on a hot summer night and just enjoy the normal. So I will continue to let myself fall in love with strangers until they give me reason not to, as I walk down the sidewalk looking for home. 

June 29 - Marriage

I'm going to the wedding of a couple of my dear friends today - congratulations and best wishes, guys! - so of course, I'm thinking about marriage today. If this turns into a pity party blog post, I apologize. That is not my intention, but it may swing that way in a bit.

In general, I think I have decided that I like the idea of marriage. I like the idea of making a commitment with another person that you will always be there for one another and you will build this life together, and perhaps (though not necessarily) propagate the species together. Now, I want to be very clear on this point: I do not think that marriage is necessary for having children and I do not think that children are a necessary component of a marriage. And if you'll notice, I left any sort of number or gender qualifications out of that definition because there are those who are poly-amorous and I am a firm believer in gay marriage. One of the most beautiful marriages I know of is between two women. And I'll buy into the Chasing Amy theory that it is so rare that you might find the one person that you want to build that life with, why cut yourself off from half of the population because of what genitalia they have? I think if people want to enter into that commitment willingly, they should be able to.

I have seen lots of different kinds of marriages, too. I know people who got married because they felt they should. I know people who got married because they absolutely could not imagine life without the other person. I know people whose marriages fell apart because of infidelity or insecurity or because they got married too young. I know people whose marriages seem to get stronger every day. I know people who have been through rough spots, but pushed through on the strength of their love and commitment to each other. They make the choice every day to love one another and that, to me, is a beautiful thing. As Frank Turner said, "Love is about all the changes you make and not just three small words."

I've been proposed to, too. It was a joke, but it happened. I do sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had said yes. And there was a man in my life at one time who I wished would have proposed, but I know in retrospect that it would have been a disaster.

As a child of divorced parents, I find myself wanting to be careful about who I enter into relationships with and who I might marry someday. I know people who seem to bounce from one relationship to the next, one marriage to the next, and while I am sure there is more to the story than that, I don't want to be one of those people. I know how to be alone; I like being alone, so when a relationship ends, I'm always a little bit relieved that my life can get back to normal. I think I'm waiting to find that person who I enjoy being around so much that I don't want my life to go back to normal again.

But I also find myself reaching that age where if I don't find a life partner soon, the likelihood that I will be able to have my own biological children with that partner is getting slim. So there is that pressure to find someone, even if it means entering into a relationship that I know won't last just so in the short term, I have someone to raise kids with.

I don't think I could do that. I know I couldn't do that.

In a really strange way, taking the pressure of children out of a relationship makes it more romantic for me, then. Then I get to pick somebody who I truly just enjoy being with, who truly just enjoys being with me. And we get to promise to be there for each other no matter what for the rest of our lives. That's sweet to me.

One thing I do know, is that when I do find my husband, our marriage is going to be different from everyone else's. I think that is the only way a marriage can work, is if the parties involved make it work for them. And it will likely start with our actual wedding being something different that works for us. I know so many people look forward to their wedding - I did as a little girl - like making it to the wedding day is the end goal. Hollywood would have us believe that. But I think for a marriage to really work, you have to focus on what happens after the wedding day. In which case, a little ceremony in Central Park with an officiant and a photographer is plenty. We'll have our whole lives to party with our friends.

Anyway. I have to get dressed and wrap a present and get ready to go be happy for my friends who are starting the next chapter of what I hope will be an amazing life together full of love and joy and laughter. Maybe someday, I'll get to do the same for me.

May 20 - Two. Sometimes Three.

Pardon me while I borrow a tired cliche, but I live two lives, really. Sometimes three. Much of the time, I don't really notice - I'm aware of them, I'm aware that lines between my day job life, my artistic life and my friend/family life exist, but they're just kind of there. They don't usually blind me like a neon sign. Every once in a while, though, two or more of the worlds are forced into this strange juxtaposition and I can't look away no matter how much I might want to.

I spent this past weekend at a convention with a bunch of artists - writers, mostly, but there were other artistic disciplines represented as well, from musical to culinary to design. It was a weekend of discussions about hopes and dreams and project ideas and creation. I had a wonderful time and met some truly inspirational people who I hope I will know and continue to get to know for years to come.

Today, I was back at my day job, working the floor of a trade show. There were discussions about technology and how things work and value propositions and what makes our equipment better than that of other companies. There were some familiar faces, plenty of smiles, lots of handshaking.  Everywhere I looked, I saw faces that I hoped were the ones I had met over the weekend, coming to greet me with an eight-second hug that would bond us for life. Sadly, they were not there.

And I couldn't help but notice the difference between an artistic conference and a technological conference. I don't mean to say that one is bad and one is good, or that I enjoyed one and not the other. Both have their merits, both provided stimulation and a little break from the norm that was much needed. But while one is good, the other is the reason I exist. One makes me feel like I did something productive; the other makes me feel like I contributed to the human race. One filled me with wonder for what people can build; the other gave me faith in who people are.

As I continue on in my life, I hope I can balance the amount of time I spend at each of these activities a little better. Having faith in humanity allows me to present the technology better. Knowing the technology helps me connect with humans better. But in either case, in either pursuit, I want to always feel like I am contributing something positive to the human race.

Thank you to my friends, old and new, who I met at the artistic conference over the weekend, for reminding me what a brilliant species we are and just how amazing we all have the potential to be. I love your faces and hope to see you all again very soon.

May 6 - A Story

A man walks down the street with his two young children. His son wears a light jacket and carries a red and yellow backpack over both shoulders. His daughter skips along in a pink parka with turquoise flowers on it and sparkly pink shoes with rainbows on the toes. Both are too distracted with the wonders of the city to notice their father pick something up off of the ground and detour slightly to dispose of it.

"What was that, Daddy?" asks the spunky little girl.

"Just some garbage that was on the ground," replies her father.

"Because we want to make Mother Nature happy, right, Daddy?"

"That's right."

The girl walking by in a black trench coat and hat cannot help but smile as her heart fills with love for this unknown family. There is hope for the future after all.