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Et tu, pie?

Three years ago I was on deadline when October 31st rolled around. My son was seven at the time. He wanted to be a pumpkin pie for Halloween.

The year before he was Emmett from The Lego Movie. Year before that he was Jack Skellington from Nightmare Before Christmas. He’s been Doc Brown from Back to the Future, Neo from The Matrix, and of course, Harry Potter. Like most kids, he is attracted to the cultural figures he relates to.  Inevitably he chooses male heroes because they are abundant. Not that I haven’t tried to counter that…

“Jane Fonda,” Halloween 2009.

…but as soon as he was old enough to understand that attire can be used to project identity, he made different choices. And aside from continually pointing out the gender disparity to him, I feel a bit helpless.  So when he wanted to be pie for Halloween, I was psyched. How wholesome and uncomplicated. No unconscious bias in pie. And the aspirational qualities! Sweetness, freshness, simplicity…

But unlike a costume based on a movie character, it’s difficult to render for a human body. Luckily I was on deadline and had no free time, so I spent hours researching how to make a delightful pie costume. Conceptually we shifted from pumpkin to cherry because of the color palate. The pie itself was simple enough to make (I used this as a model). The whipped cream hat proved challenging, but we got there.

And although it was difficult for him to sit normally…

… it was impossible not to pick him out amid the throngs of Harry Potters and Luke Skywalkers and Emmets mobbing the streets during trick-or-treating. His weird-ass costume was a hit with both candy-takers and candy-givers alike.  I was proud of myself for buying a glue gun to make it. I stayed proud until one rowdy parent spotted him a block away and bellowed this adorable tune at full volume (do yourself a favor and never google those lyrics).

So much for uncomplicated.

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Coffee.

I get asked out for coffee a lot. I tend to say yes because I hate disappointing people. Also I don’t know how to say no in a nice way. Because if I have time for coffee, I have time to lay in my bed and look at the ceiling and remind myself I’m going to die.

I don’t necessarily prefer that to coffee. But I do feel uncomfortable when people ask for advice. I don’t have advice. I have experience. Which is different. But people think I know what I’m doing. So I say yes, but I ask if we can schedule it later because I’m a little overwhelmed right now.

Which is true. Often I’m on staff or on deadline and losing my fucking mind. But sometimes I’m just trying to get out of my pajamas. Which can take days. Weeks even.

All this is to say…

  1. If you’ve ever asked me out for coffee to “pick my brain” and I’ve said yes, I’m sorry.
  2. If you’ve ever actually HAD coffee with me, I’m also sorry.
  3. If you are someone trying to get women to stop apologizing for everything, hey I’m with ya. But I keep fucking up. I’m sorry.
  4. I’m still in my pajamas. It’s noon.
  5. I’m going to die someday.
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Atonement.

My procrastination skills are epic. I’ll do any goddamn thing not to write. Yesterday I constructed a hat organizer for my closet with cardboard tubes and jute twine. Last week I leveled my yard, laid down paver sand and astroturf, and built a wooden clubhouse for my son.

I’ll shop for shelf liners on Amazon. I’ll research ways to hang a backyard swing with no trees. I’ll learn how to speak Greek with a decent accent. I’ll make my cats into gifs. I’ll cook, clean, build, bathe, drink, swim, fight, fuck when I “should” be writing.

I made this website to keep from writing a film. It’s a film no one is waiting for, that no one asked me to write. It’s about something very personal. I’m terrified to start it. But I’m more terrified to finish it. Because then I’ll realize I got it wrong.

I think I keep writing because I keep getting it wrong.

And then I build shit to make up for it.