write. run. party.
there she is.
Evan (my husband) and I were catching up with an old friend a couple weeks ago when the friend asked me, “So do you know what you want in life now?” And almost instantly, I responded by saying,
“I just wanna write and run… and party.”
Our friend laughed whilst Evan practiced his eye-roll (he’s getting better!… learning from the best: me and Liz Lemon) and said, “Cool. So nothing about your husband or daughter??” But okay, here’s the thing: I’m sticking by my answer. Even though “party” was admittedly probably not the most accurate word of what I want, I doubled-down. “YES, PARTY.”
I’m not talking about partying like how people are like, “Wanna party?” and then they pull out a little plastic baggy that says “DRUGS” on it. I’ve (obviously, from my description) never done cocaine and I think it’s too late for me to ever try it. With the history of my love-hate relationship with alcohol and my absolute love for a dance floor, I’m sure if I would’ve ever done coke I would ended up dead in a ditch long ago… a very fun ditch, I’m sure… like with confetti and sparkles in it… but still… dead as a doornail.
No, I’m pushing 40. When I say I want to party in this life, I want to go skiing on a weekday with my three-year-old and my partner whilst wearing red lipstick.
I want to go see concerts with my friends, theater shows with my husband (god, Book of Mormon is so damn funny), DJ gigs from some of my favorite people, sporting events with old friends, and book readings from writers I am in awe of. I wanna party. I want to eat curry with my girlfriends while we talk about the power that traveling the world gives us. I wanna party. I want to occasionally, spontaneously find a dance floor or a photobooth and pretend like we’re 23 again and dance hard enough to be sore the next day and smile big enough to capture the joy on film. Partying to me these days means to lick it all up. All of the art. All of the music. All of the quality time. All of the things I’m in love with—my family, my friends, my city, my favorite foods, my favorite drinks, my favorite music—and nothing else.
Let’s party.
On Sunday, I wrote for three hours. (I mean, there were still many three-year-old interruptions, even though she was with Evan and gone for a good part of it, but still.) I’m working on my memoir and I FINALLY got my final chapter to where I like it. Hallelu! (don’t you worry, I still have a couple other chapters to finish… ahhhhrhghgh it’s such hard work… please don’t ask me if I’m done with my book yet. I guess that I have put it out into the universe that I’m writing a book, but it takes so much time, even if you do everything right and you’re already famous. I’m making a lot of mistakes [in life and the writing process] and I’m not famous…yet.)
After writing and a crushingly long visit to the Filson store with my oh so handsome and indecisive husband, I went for a nine mile run at Discovery Park, one of my favorite places in the world. It was cold. It was a hard nine miles, but I listened to Evie’s show on KEXP the whole time and it made me stupid happy. There is something spectacular about that cold air hitting your lungs and the ice on the rocks that separate you on the path from the Pacific Ocean. I go to Discovery to find myself, because sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I don’t recognize that mom who passed by the mirror with a messy bun and the most tired skin skin can look. Sometimes I don’t know where to find myself amongst the never-ending piles of laundry and the ever-happening meal planning. So I go to Discovery for a little internal search party.
After a quick shower, Evan, Marcelline, and I went to sushi birthday dinner for our friend Chelsea. It was delicious and so comforting and Evan wore this new Filson shirt that made him look so handsome I kept catching myself staring at him like a middle school girl obsessed with the new cute boy in class.
You’d think that would be it for me for a day, but if you’d think that you probably don’t know me that well. Evan drove me down to the Clock-Out Lounge while Marcie fell asleep in the car. I wanted to see my old KEXP friends tearing it up at the MLK Unity Party. And that’s exactly what happened. I had so much fun watching them work and watching people actually party and dancing with a few friends and catching up with a few friends.
I called it a night a little after midnight and called a Lyft. It was quiet for the first half of the ride, but then something happened. I’m not sure what even it was that one of us said, but all the sudden we were both talking about our only children (his [14-years-old] was annoying him [along with his wife… apparently they were ganging up on him] and that’s why he even went out to do some driving for Lyft tonight). We talked a lot about career paths and the responsibility we feel for our kids emotions. Before we knew it, we were at my house, but in full-fledged rapid-succession house-on-fire conversation. So my Lyft driver parked right in front of my house and got out and then all the sudden we were outside talking more. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and I gestured for one. (I don’t always smoke cigarettes, but when I do, it’s the day I also ran nine miles… just to keep my body on its toes.)
“You can’t let yourself worry about what your kid is going to worry about.”
“I know!”
“I mean… listen to how ridiculous that sentence even is!”
“I KNOW. It’s unhinged!”
“They’re gonna be their own person. And being a person means having emotions. They’re gonna have them all. TRUST me.”
I took my final drag on my cigarette and then exhaled an, “I know.”
I used to get in trouble for saying, “I know” to my own dad when he was lecturing me about stuff. And now I smirked a little bit as I got this lecture from this dad about how to be a good parent and all I could say was, “I know.”
When I went inside our apartment, I sloppily jumped on the bed and cuddled up to Evan.
“I just smoked a cigarette with my Lyft driver.”
Evan turned over, moaned out a laugh, and then said, “There she is.”
There she is. Yes, there she is as in I had gotten home for the night, but also a Rachel of yore had shown up. I’m not a smoker, but I’m somehow the person people want to have a cigarette with and it used to happen often. (I’m sure this has nothing to do with a child-like need to wanting to make people happy.)
I told Evan what the Lyft driver and I talked about and then Evan shrugged (still horizontal… a horizontal shrug) and said, “Write, run, and party.”
“Write! Run! Party!” I fist-pumped.
She’s a mess and also smells like sweat, mezcal, and now cigarette smoke, but she’s so excited to see you and she will be there when you finally want to take a turn on that dance floor.
There she is.
A Little Woo:
How Do I Say This?: I need a break from this here news(love)letter.
I’ve been getting back into a tarot practice and one card keeps coming up for me:
The Four of Swords. This is what Biddy Tarot says about the Four of Swords:
The Four of Swords tells you to rest before you take on the next challenge. You have reached an important first milestone and must recharge your energy before the next phase begins so you are refreshed and ready to go. Even if you are highly productive and driven, take time out from your busy schedule to restore your energy and heal the body and the mind. Constant stress and tension will break even the hardest and most resilient of people but brief periods of rest enable you to refresh your energy, concentration and focus so that you are ready for the next challenge.
I. love. doing. this. news(love)letter. so. damn. much. There are hundreds of you… HUNDREDS! But if I don’t finish my book now, I’m gonna go get myself a job and then ride off into a salaried sunset without truly putting myself into getting this book to the best place that I can and then getting an agent and then selling it.
ALSO, it’s almost PAST midnight on the PACIFIC COAST on a Tuesday Wednesday now. Obviously, I’m not nailing life with The Messayist. I’ve also taken on a side-project that I’m super excited about, but takes up a lot of energy. And then Marcelline had a 103° fever tonight and we ended up just cuddling for most of the afternoon. I didn’t get to write today (until late), I definitely didn’t get to run, and “partying” was out of the question. Life is happening. I need to take a step back—until February 27th—from the weekly Messayist.
Paid subscribers (you true loves of my life) will still get an email and Spotify playlist for the astrological change (Aquarius and Pisces comin’ atcha!), but beyond that, I need to focus my writing energy on my book and my media consumption on the books my writing teacher told me to read and the screenplay my friend sent me forever ago and manuscripts of my friends’ and actual published books from friends!
Thank you for understanding. I love you.
Quick Hits:
Jam of the Week: Khruangbin – A Love International.
(instant hit. what a jam. and I LOVE THIS VIDEO. so excited about a new Khruangbin album on April 5th.)
I Don’t Miss Much About Australia, But I Do Miss This.
(Australia’s best radio station does a countdown and does it right. and then two days later they do the top 100 of 2003. omg, COUNT MY MILLENIAL ASS IN.)The Next Movie I Wanna See.
(except that whole trailer feels like a spoiler! BUT, I have heard the Texas depiction is ah-mazing.)
I HAVE ONLY EATEN AT FIVE OUT OF 20.
(I have some EATING to do. jk jk jk I’m so broke.)By Party, I Meant Messing With Time.
(❤️)I’m Wearing These Right Now Whilst In Bed With One Sick Toddler, Two Lions, And An Exhausted Nurse-Husband.
do I look like Jenna Lyons say yes. I Love Bridget And I Love This Column.
(should I try clogs again? I always need a back-strap on my feet… feel like I’m gonna Cinderella shoes all over the damn town.)Such Good Stand-Up.
(field trips!)ME AS A HOMEOWNER.
(lolololol.)I Know Nothing About Cars, But This Made Me Cry Laughing.
(widdle-wadder!)Bloopers Are My Happy Place.
(thank you, Layne, for sharing this one again.)
Okay! I have to sleep. Truly, thank you for understanding I need to take a handful of weeks off of this lovely little letter. She loves being in your Inbox… tells me all the time. I know she’ll miss you. Don’t forget her, though. Before you know it, she’ll messily jump on top of you and you’ll be like, “There she is.”
xxo,
rachel.