small steps

 

this week feels like starting over. a twenty year career at Pixar officially in the books. recent travels to my favorite cities (NYC and Reykjavík) complete. 

i spent most of last week sleeping midday, suffering from an array of anxiety dreams about former co-workers in an alternate-universe Pixar. then there was the appearance of a narcissistic friend i ghosted a few years ago. my car ran away with itself and i darted through an abandoned 80s-era McDonald's to try to catch it. 

i've been making a not-so-productive habit of living on my couch, sitting with discomfort and dread about my future. for the first time in my adult life, I now had no work, no purpose, no plan. both thrilling and terrifying. 

in a fit of fight-flight-freeze, i decluttered a handful of drawers and cupboards and reorged my life into stylish acrylic bins to feel accomplished. the high from this activity was fleeting, so i started agonizing over switching medical plans and paying a monthly premium now. i ruminated over making a new guy friend and then blowing off plans with him because i was too afraid to lead him on. 

books have been a source of calm and inspiration during this new transition. i've read a few of the many female celebrity tell-alls sitting on my shelf: This Will Only Hurt A Little by Busy Phillips (love her comedic voice and relations with Hwood elite). Emily Ratajkowski's My Body (raw & revealing, literally). Elliot Page's Pageboy: A Memoir (Elliot doesn't write his story chronologically which engages the reader even more). I still wanna read Lessons In Becoming Myself by Ellen Burstyn and Girl Walks Into A Bar by Rachel Dratch.

reading Busy's book made me reflect on my own adventures with celebrities, or what my friend Jill calls "being Hwood adjacent". i've found myself visiting a lot of celebrity homes in this lifetime and collecting silly memories: 

Tony Danza (barber shop n beers, "the brush") / Holland Taylor (Jim, being sixteen, A Bug's Life VW bug, the stained glass window) / Ed Asner (the backyard cat fight, MJ's death, endless Emmy awards peppered throughout the house, the replica Jeannie bottle on his desk) / Vicki Lawrence (the many escapades with her son, G Bucket) / Tommy Smothers (learning how to boil broccoli at the ranch, meeting Tim Conway in the kitchen). i've also walked the beloved dogs of Howard Stern (bulldog Bianca) and Shirley MacLaine (rat terrier Terry). 

i've managed to start and stick to a new hobby thanks to my close Long Beach friend, G Bucket. i've been consistently putting on a bathing suit (despite my ghost-white legs and Birkenstock tan) and submerging myself into the bay down the street. G and i don't even worry about the temperature of the bay. without hesitation, we power through our entrance into the water, our bodies adapting to the cold almost immediately. sea water is very comforting, like a healing blanket. dense saltwater carries the body so effortlessly...like floating on a gentle cloud through calming, tepid water.

small steps right now for Kelly B. small, gentle steps that will eventually lead to the next big thing that brings back her childlike wonder and creativity, purpose, joy, and most importantly, humor.

currently listening to: Sailing by Christopher Cross