A Hobbit’s Tale by Bilbo Baggins
A Young Thug’s Tale by Katrina Nelson
–ACCORDING TO MANY UNACKNOWLEDGED TEXT MESSAGES THIS MONTH, I HAVE BEEN REGARDED AS UNREACHABLE–
“Hey Kat! How are things? (:”
“Are you doing okay?”
“Katrina, how have you been?”
“What boy made you cry in the bathroom?!? Tell me so I can beat him up.”
“What’ve you been up to, Kitty Kat?”
“I wanna see you!”
“Yo, been a while.”
“Hi, hey, hello.”
“Hey how has your week been?”
“Are you happy?”
“C u tonite??”
“Soo nice out! Are you off tomorrow?”
You know how voicemail is a thing? “Hi, you’ve reached Katrina Nelson! I cannot make to the phone now, but if you leave your name and number after the tone, the odds that I’ll give you a call back will increase exponentially (Unless you’re Barry Schultz.) Anyways, have a fabulous day!”
How nice—how courteous— it would be to set up an automated textmail thing, letting people know when I’m off supremely living or absolutely dying.
Which was pretty much all of February.
You know what?
Like a Bilbo Baggins post-adventure…
I think I shall sit down….
And explain how I’ve been. Or maybe rather who I’ve been.
– ACCORDING TO MY OWN SOCIAL MEDIA POSTS–
You’ve seen concert posts and roses. Hair fashion shows and smiles.
But no one saw the Week of Ill. No one saw the Break. You know what’s funny? I would have posted about it, if I could. But I had no energy to move. I genuinely had no energy to give a fuck.
Ah, here,I have as good a source as any for tracking my process into Unreachable.
–ACCORDING TO MY FEBRUARY JOURNAL ENTRIES–
They said they’d call in January.
So it’s been Mama D’s 6 days a week. I’ve never had a greater grind… but why, why can’t I stop from messing up?
Note to self:
Clean menu’s constantly, or have someone else do it in the back. .
Always seat if the restaurant is nearly empty.
Except if it starts to fill up, then check the count.
Don’t have Alonzo set up until most of the group is there.
Bread, bread, bread, bread. Always bread.
Wear better shoes for running.
Drink more water.
Katrina, my goodness gracious! You never wrote about Genevieve’s 23rd. About her driving hours upon hours to spend the weekend with you. About dancing wildly in the rain with your best friend, who’s soul you could have sworn you saw. About shopping in the rain around Laguna. About the Chromeo concert, and about befriending Hugo the Valet Guy. About Hugo the Valet Guy helping you skip the 2 hour wait. About you paying him in HubbaBubba Bubble Gum.
And then you forgot, Katrina! To write about that sweet, sweet date. The thai food, the Cupcake wine! The Laguna hike, the Top of the world! That little Meadow, the first time slacklining. The boat. The boat with lots of candles and starlight.
Oh, Katrina. Silly girl. How you’ve forgotten to write about driving after a late night of work to LA just because you needed to see Mackenzie. How Branden talked to you for the whole car ride, how authentic that was! How you and Mack 2 cuddled up on the couch and ate peanut butter. How falling asleep beside her felt like you’d never been apart. It was beyond needed; I felt full again.
Speaking of necessary— there was that long overdue meeting Phil for Acai bowls! You really can’t forget a conversation with an artist like that, I can’t believe I held a conversation with such talent. Talking about Annika and I; talking about La and Dad. Talking about La being lost because Dad. How he analyzed your signature! How loop it was, meaning how passionate I must be….
Passion! Ah yes, last Sunday with Crystal! I would wish I was Crystal if the thought of her didn’t make me feel like a great enough human already. And her addition of nutritional yeast to avocado toast! And Pistachio Gelato and sunshine everwhere. The caffeine high was incredible, but I couldn’t top the conversation. Speaking of conversation—
Rick! He’s in Nashville. But the 2 hour time difference hasn’t hindered the ability to call him up before falling asleep to tell him Joshua Tree is a thing to be done! Its kind of terrifying, to have someone you want to talk to but that—
REMINDS ME! Alexio, writing simply, “Hope your days is terrifying in the best way”. It got me thinking of how good it is to be terrified sometimes.
Fuck being terrified.
This is what Parvin told me:
“Let it go. Let him go. Don’t cry over spilled water. You’ll want to make more room in your heart, dear one.
In fact, you’ll make a ballroom.
And so many people can come in.
And it’s that last one dancing—that’s the one you want.
The one who puts you on a pedestal,
Who let’s you know you’re worthy.
…And that’s not the person that puts tears in your eyes, my love.”
Make a cake. Let them know how excited you are that you’re on A TOP 10 TEAM!
February 11th, again
The moment I brought out the cake I wish I hadn’t spent forever making it. Then I wished I’d spent more time. Then I wish it all just never happened.
Since when did I become such a shy person?
Larissa’s Birthday! Keep it together, keep it together.
I don’t care if you’re sick IT’S LARISSA’S BIRTHDAY GET THE FUCK UP AND GO FUCKING MAKE IT THE BEST DAY OF HER LIFE.
ALSO, KEEP MAKING THOSE VALENTINES.
This is what Parvin told me today:
“And I got up.
Just like that, in the middle of the night during a hot flash. I sat up.
And I put Menopause in front of me, and I said “Listen you fuck.
You’re not going to do this to me. I’m not going to let you take over my life.”
And I meant it. I believed it.
And I never had a hot flash again.
And that was it.
You can do it. With whatever you have.
And when they’re gone.
Close the door and never open it again.
That is all, my love.”
I’m about to pass out, but write even when tired.
Today we had over 700 guests in Mama D’s.
I love Love.
I really, truly, love Love.
(There is an absence of entries from February 15th to February 17th. This was when I was so sick I could not get out of bed. This was when I slept for 2 sets of 16 hours straight. All I would do was wake up to drink water and then pass out. This was when no one heard from me).
G e t u p .
END OF JOURNAL ENTRIES.
–ACCORDING TO ANNIKA–
I experienced what my currently-concussed-but-still-sharp sister referred to as “a crash”. I thought I was dying, but I humored her explanation. Come to find…
I did not die at all. I woke up, eventually. Go figure.
And when I woke up, it started to make sense. Oh how patterns love to disguise themselves. I was doing it again—I was doing everything but writing again. Within that little window of February I’d picked up a quick stint of babysitting. I was still working in the office several times a week. Mama D’s was more stress than I let on, just because I wanted so so badly to prove I deserved to be there. I yoga’d, every day. Sometimes biking, occasionally beaching. I was being Lovesick over a Not Here, and I let myself crumble.
And so, on the approach of my Dad’s Birthday….
I decided to do a little neccessary rebirthing of my own.
–SO ACCORDING TO ME, RIGHT NOW–
What the heck, let’s make even more room in my heart. Let’s start a dance party in my new ballroom of perspective.Let’s journey back to the simple Shire days for a little while… And then go meet the Dragon.
It’s time to head back to the armchair. To the pen, the paper, the bookcase…
–SAVE FOR, ACCORDING TO THE NEWPORT PUBLIC LIBRARY–
5 of those books are overdue.
I have no intention of returning them anytime soon.
SO THAT’S HOW I’VE BEEN DOING, MOTHERFUCKERS.