An Open Letter to Myself

This is my first real post in almost six months.  I won't delude myself into thinking that my multitudes of fans lost countless nights of sleep over my half year absence.  I assume you all supplemented your diets by rereading my past entries, stifling yours sobs in the sleeves of your favorite "sad day sweatshirts," before drinking yourselves into alcohol induced comas.

...

Obviously, I jest.  So, rather than attempting to resurrect what was never a booming fan base anyway, I'd like to take this time to get back in touch with the one person who actually suffered from this hiatus...

Dear Morgan,

First and foremost, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry that I didn't force you over the hurtle when you stopped feeling any creative drive last spring.  I'm sorry that I allowed you to get bogged down in your insecurities, and I regret that I ever let you believe that your talents weren't worth the pursuit.

The truth is, Morgan, I'm still scared.  I'm still insecure.  I still put on horizontal striped shirts on a regular basis, look in a mirror, and then talk myself out of leaving the house in them.  But here's the rub.  I love being creative.  I miss it.  I've been craving an outlet, and though this blog was right in front of me, the very first link on my favorites menu, I neglected it.  I neglected it because the longer I avoided my right brain, the more afraid I was that when I finally did try again, I would be out of practice, and I wouldn't know how to make anything good anymore.

It's time to move past my fear of inadequacy.  As Stuart Smalley once said:

If Michael Jordan can do it, so can I.

So Morgan, let's get one thing straight.  Even if no one else reads it or cares, you're going to hit post when you finish writing this entry.  Then you're going to turn off your computer, go to rehearsal and act the crap out of the first role you've undertaken in two years.  Because you're a damn good actress, and you love doing it. Do you hear me?  You love doing it.

And put that striped shirt back on.  You don't look fat.

Love always,
Morgan

For now...

I know it has been far too long since I last posted, but life has been very...life...lately.  Until such a time when my tumultuous existence levels out a bit, here is something to get us all through.

The magic button — Make Everything OK

Life Audit

Name: Morgan Springsteen

Age: 24

Marital Status: Single.

Weight: Bite me.

Current Hair: Short and red.

New and improved.

Employment Status: Full time receptionist.

Residential Status: Potentially evicted.  Verdict pending.  Seeking new dwelling quarters w. roommate Rachel.  Ambitiously pursuant of landlords unwilling to lease a house which has already been foreclosed upon by the bank.  Thanks for the pro-tip, current landlords.

Social Life (Rank from 1-10, in which 10 is Most Active): 11

New Friends: 10+ (Exceeds Expectations)

Feuds/Quarrels: Montgomery Fortenbacher

Culprit.

Crime:

This middle finger was not for him.  ...It is now.

Goals for March: New tattoo.

The White Tree of Gondor
Courtesy of J.R.R. Tolkien and The Oxford Literary Journal

General Health: Overcoming a cold.  Continually battling allergies due to uncharacteristically tepid Midwest winter.  Not complaining about uncharacteristically tepid Midwest winter... unless it means that the world is melting... in which case, it stands to reason that allergies are the very least of my concerns.

Coveted New Treasures:

Boots: JCPenney - $29
Skinny Jeans: Target - $25
Discovering skinny jeans can look good on you: Priceless

Weird leather tribal eyeball bracelet: Goodwill - $1.99
"It gets better" bracelet: Etsy - courtesy of Best Molly

New Collection of Gypsy Scarves: Goodwill/Meijer/Target/etc.

Overall Life Status: Hanging in there.

Why Maintaining a Blog is as Daunting as Running a Marathon

Once upon a time three or so months ago, I decided to do something creative.  I wanted to make something expressive, to push my imagination back onto the proverbial treadmill.  Just like me, it had gained a bunch of weight under the influence of crippling depression (and fast food) while living in Florida, and it didn't want to get off the couch, either.  But we gave each other an inspirational pep talk, and by the end of it we had agreed to start this blog and cut Taco Bell out of our diet.  Now, thirty pounds down, my old jeans fit again, and I'm happy to announce that vegetables and I have reconciled, and they have forgiven me for ignoring them for a year. However, my imagination is having a harder time transitioning back into its formerly active lifestyle.

It isn't that my imagination is being intentionally lazy.  It tries.  I can't tell you how many times in recent weeks I have opened a blank Word document, stared at it for thirty to sixty seconds, walked away from it, picked up a book, read a page, put it down, stared at the ceiling for ten minutes, decided I was simply not in the appropriate mindset to be effectively clever or entertaining, and gave it up as a bad job.

It seems appropriate to admit that after that last sentence, I walked away for two hours.

I think the biggest hurdle I have to jump is the debilitating insecurity that months of depression instilled in me. I spent a year convincing myself that my words were worthless, my thoughts inconsequential.  The entire point of starting this blog was to convince myself that my voice has value. Now I just have to convince myself to press the "Post" button.

For your enjoyment...

Stanley Tucci's forearms.

...I know.

A toast...

I've been thinking a lot about my dad today. It's been a while since I've taken a minute to just...miss him. Sometimes it feels like a pointless and futile thing to sit and pine for the dead. Where does it get us, after all? It doesn't make them less dead. However, grief is like the ghost in Super Mario World.  It only goes away when you stare it in the face. If you try to run from it, it chases you and gets bigger and meaner. ...Yup. Yes. Solid analogy. I feel really good about that reference.

So tonight, I face the ghost. I miss you, Dad. I hope that if you can see me, you're proud of your Princess Morningstar.  I'm endeavoring to persevere, just like you taught me. And tonight I'm drinking a beer for you.

So, a toast to my dad.  The biggest Eddie of them all.

Good Things That Have Happened

Since I haven't written a blog entry in roughly a month, here is a list of good things that have happened in that time.

1. Got a job!
2. Started job!
3. Love job!
4. Sang and danced with family to Ukrainian-American gypsy punk rock music.

5. Moved back to Grand Rapids. <3
6. Did a hot dog tour of Grand Rapids.  Hated self.  ...Loved self.
7. Spent New Year's with Bests Molly and Kyle, watching Austin Powers and Jurassic Park. Happy 1997.

8. Drank Dan Aykroyd chardonnay and smoked expensive stogies with Molly.
9. Saw a UFO.
10. Discovered that NewsRadio reruns are available on Netflix.
11. Watched endless amounts of NewsRadio reruns on Netflix with Best Sean.
12. Watched Fellowship of the Ring with MST3000-esque audience commentary.
13. Ate at Bartertown for the first time.  Life changing.
14. Regained some semblance of a social life.  Mostly didn't have to leave The Speeler living room.

 15. Figured some stuff out.  Not everything, but enough to start putting my life back together a bit.

Happy New Year.  2012 simply HAS to be better than last year.  ...You heard me, Mayan Calendar.