The Avocado and Me

“Do you know that there's a halfway world between each ending and each new beginning? It's called the hurting time, Jean Perdu. It's a bog; it's where your dreams and worries and forgotten plans gather. Your steps are heavier during that time. Don't underestimate the transition, Jeanno, between farewell and new departure. Give yourself the time you need. Some thresholds are too wide to be taken in one stride.” Nina George wrote that in her novel The Little Paris Bookshop . It's a beautiful book.  January, I am happy to report, was the month I left my own halfway world.  I read six novels. I watched lots of movies and created a (semi) consistent yoga routine. I saw my friends and had people to eat lunch with. Play rehearsals are well underway, I'm finding unexpected friends in timid freshmen and too-cool-for-school sophomores, my competence in math is gradually (slowly) improving. The space between May and December of 2019 was my wide threshold; I f

Yesterday, my theatre teacher told us an actor is an observer. If you want to portray a sixteen-year-old girl, go to the high school cafeteria. Watch her sitting alone, peeling a tomato slice off of her burger. If you are going to play a homeless character, you need to talk to one. Ask if the concrete and blank stares soften with time. It is impossible to be someone without understanding what has shaped the entirety of their being. You need a certain degree of empathy. You need to be a student of the human experience. I agree entirely. I woke up incredibly early on January 13th to watch the Oscar nominations being released. I promised that if Greta Gerwig was nominated for best director, I would be hopelessly good for the rest of my life. Or Lulu Wang. Or Marielle Heller. So there I was, sleep in my eyes, clogged pores, black tea with milk, waiting, and waiting, lip reading the announcements because I couldn't find my headphones. I was taking a bite of my banana-peanut-butte

I really like cleaning. I'm not sure what that says about me. But it's true. Lots of my best thoughts happen along when I'm sorting through papers or straightening books. Lots of my least best thoughts, too. I suppose you take the good with the bad. So it's winter break, it's the new year, and I've been cleaning. There's something extra special about tidying up at the dawn of a new decade; potential is in the air, opportunities are boundless, life could go in any direction. New year, same old me. Here's what I've been thinking about. The Trajectory. This is what I and the voices in my head call the path everyone expects you to take. High school, check. High GPA, check. Selective college, check. High-paying job, check. But also... crippling student debt, anxiety, minimal social skills, and a sense of dwindling purpose. When I was in the eighth grade, my writing and history teachers took a picture with me. That way, they could say they knew