notes from july: being the drama

I spent most of July house-sitting my friend Marissa’s apartment in Bed-Stuy. Bed-Stuy isn’t far from my home in Bushwick, but for some reason this month it felt quite distant. I thought I’d get a lot of writing done staying in another neighborhood away from the distraction of friends, and I figured I’d sleep better too, without having to make a compromise with the usual noise outside my window. I don’t know if I was having some type of withdrawal from what I’ve grown accustomed to, or if my mind just shifted into vacation, but my output this month was smaller than I anticipated, and I’m a little disappointed in myself. I’ve spent the last few days wondering if I should treat myself gentle or hard about this, but I’m so spent that even deciding on the strength of my punishment exhausts me.

I get like this every time I come back from a disruption in my routine. The more pleasant my time away is, the more I struggle to pull it together. Most of the nights I tried to strap myself to the kitchen table to write ended with me playing with Marissa’s stripper pole in front of my laptop, or wasted in bed off of free cans of Waves wine (x) I acquired somehow throughout the week. But, I guess this is what a successful summertime is supposed to be like.

Truly, this month I’ve struggled to compile my thoughts about everything happening around me. I’ve done a lot of nothing this July, but it also feels like I’ve done a lot of everything. I’m tired but also antsy, exhausted but also ready to go. I hope this weird feeling leaves in the next 3-5 business days, and I can snap back into whoever I was before I enjoyed lying down in my friend Marissa’s bed too much.

Here are my notes from July:

• I lost my wallet (debit card, credit card, insurance card, 100-dollar J Crew gift card from 2019, and ID) on the 4th of July, and I would be so angry about it if my day wasn’t such an all-timer. I ended the night at an empty Funny Bar, where my friend Ivy sang “Someone To Watch Over Me” impromptu with a jazz band. I was spun around a couple of times. I had a few happy tears, and everything felt very solid and perfect. Upon reflecting, it’s obvious to me that in that moment, I was everything a wallet thief could’ve hoped for— all smiley, distracted, counting my blessings, purse wide open on the ground. My negligence served me evil, and now I’m using a snack-sized ziplock bag from my kitchen as a wallet.

• I tried to legally change my birthdate to the 4th of July back in high school. I’m using ‘tried’ loosely here because I barely got past my mother. I remember the night I shared this idea with her at the dinner table, and how quickly it turned into a story about how painful it was to give birth to me and how disrespectful it would be not to honor that.

• It’s important to remember that more often than not, you’re a small part of someone else’s best day ever.

• When I’m living out of a tote bag, I feel like a dog that has clothes on for the first time and doesn’t quite know how to move its body around the space.

• If you call me tasteless, I’m just gonna assume you have bad taste.

• My legs become ugly so quickly in the summer. I have these awful dark patches on the back of my knees from years of trying to relieve my eczema with anything that seemed brutal enough to scare my nerves into shutting up. I remember, in late high school, I kept a fork underneath my pillow to use to relieve myself when I returned home from a show or a friend’s house. Felt absolutely amazing. I’ve also used nail files, rocks, the sides of buildings, and water bottle caps— whatever I could get my hands on in the moment that could create enough friction for me to bleed and feel a little bit of relief. In exchange, I have been marked forever with these nasty patches on my back legs that only add to the brutality that normal legs already endure in the summer. From June to August, my lower half reads as a Six Flags Fright Fest scare actor’s first day off in two weeks during a nationwide makeup remover shortage. But that is okay. This is just me.

• More holidays should include fireworks.

• I don’t think you’ll ever be smarter than a lesson you think you’re gonna learn. I think trying to outsmart life sometimes is like shaking a bee’s nest. Every time I’ve entered something, thinking I understood the consequences, I get bitten harder than I could’ve ever anticipated. Maybe being brave is overrated for the over-emotional, or maybe it’s necessary. I guess I’m thankful for all the hard things that I’ve handed myself, especially after they’ve settled, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret walking straight into them.

  

• The state of BYOB in the recession is so bleak. I mean, of course it is, but still, I find it so funny that I’ve been to several parties this summer that were BYOB with heavily decorated Partifuls encouraging guests to bring cases of whatever alcohol they wanted, only to show up on the day-of to watch party guests circle one six-pack of beer like vultures. Obviously, I’m a part of the problem as well. I’m broke, and too hopeful, also thinking someone will come through the door holding clanky bags full of whatever liquor, feeling generous and eager to share like someone with a fake ID and something to prove in college.

• My hearing is going, I think. I’ve been saying “what” too much.

• Followed a stranger too closely down the sidewalk solely because he was carrying an open can of Monster Energy. I think the smell of energy drinks is extremely underrated, one of the only things out there that smells sour in a way that is more sugary than foul.

• I’m not someone who subscribes to simulation theory, but I am easily persuaded by things that look weird. I’m simple like that. When I see something abnormal, like a “glitch” in the Twitter-meme sense, I always take a picture for further investigation. The other day, I saw a plane that seemed to be stuck in the sky. I pulled out my phone and started recording, but only for a moment before I became extremely self-conscious because of a couple standing behind me on the sidewalk. I only caught their eyes once, but their look said everything: they glanced at my phone, then back at me, with zero whimsy or curiosity. Veil thin as fuck. “Oh, that’s cute… she really thinks she’s witnessing a glitch in the simulation,” is what I imagined they were silently communicating to each other, the way couples do. I put my phone away immediately, and now all I have is this odd, one-second video that looks like shit and doesn’t even capture the plane’s behavior the way I intended.

• I’ve been in and out of urgent care this month. Something about it feels so past-life. In college, I went to urgent care no less than 15 times a semester, so much so that when the time comes to think about college, the first few images I see are me strapped down to some hospital bed or the faces of the nurses that tried to assist me when I explained that I had no insurance. Walking through the doors at an urgent care always makes me someone I'm not. I’m guarded, spiky, and unfortunately, asking at every turn if my insurance covers this or that. This July, I’ve had some minor health issues, but I’m happy to report that Vanessa, the nurse covered in Wicaan tattoos and jewelry at the clinic down the street, makes me feel somewhat safe.

  

• Letting the veil drop with new people is always scary. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fear of rejection that hits immediately after I open up emotionally for the first time in front of someone I want to keep around. I find it annoying that I sometimes need to ask for reassurance after moments like that, and I’m equally embarrassed always after catching myself asking “was I being too much” or “was I being the drama.”

• I was just made aware of Justin Bieber’s song “Backpack” featuring Lil Wayne from his 2013 album Journals (x). I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to hear about it, because the song is entirely about E.T. and feels like something someone would’ve mentioned to me at some point over the last twelve years. The alien motif isn’t subtle either—the song is mostly about E.T.’s journey and how Justin keeps him safe in his backpack. Naturally, there’s an incredible rap verse from Lil Wayne told from E.T.’s perspective. Perfect. It’s a great listen, especially if you try to imagine how the song must’ve been pitched to Justin in a session.

• This month ends on the corner of my street. I’m holding a smoke detector that has been detached from our wall for roughly a year. This evening, it decided to start chirping, and every attempt I’ve made at fixing it only results in some of the most painful noises I’ve ever heard. I had no choice but to toss it in a public trash can and hope for the best. I know this isn’t the best thing to do, but sometimes doing the wrong thing is the only thing that will make you feel better.

xoxo Mackenzie