Yeah. So?

What a wonderful day today was.

I woke up at 6am to work on my fifth for the Five-Fifths of Fringe. I did laundry, I ate delicious food I bought yesterday, made myself some coffee. I went to a yoga class at 10am, two blocks from my house. I walked there in the radiant, warm spring sun on this fragrant Minnesota day. Around 12pm, I finished up the guacamole I made for the Twin Cities' Tiny Women Funny Fest (meaning the fest was tiny, the women were not necessarily so) at Huge Theater, just a few blocks from my house. I rode my bike there. I was surrounded by amazing, funny, talented women for 4 hours. We talked about women in comedy and gender and feminist theory and did improvisation together. It was so much fun. Then I came home for a couple of hours, napped, saw a good friend for a few minutes, went to usher for a hilarious, brand new original rock musical by my friend, fellow Rockstar Storyteller, and colleague, Joseph Scrimshaw. After that show, I participated in a super-fucking-fun improv game show (incidentally with Joseph), drank some whiskey and beer and laughed my ass off with good friends. Throughout the day, I got naughty texts from my man, and even a few naughty emails.

I am so lucky.

I think about, every day now, the water I use, the bed I sleep in, the clothes I have, the food I have, the roof above my head... I think about the bus I ride, the weather, the town I live in... I think about all the things I have. And how so many people in this world do not have those things. I remind myself to be super fucking grateful for the life I was born into. Millions, MILLIONS, of people do not have the life I lead. Millions of people suffer in this world and I have the gall sometimes to think that my art, my craft, the stories or songs I write are not good enough for the world. There are women in this world that get killed for saying in private the shit I say in public, on stage. I think about how there are women, there are people, on this Earth, that are barred, because a fellow human decided it was so, from expressing themselves they way that, for lack of a better term, GOD intended them to.

I have never considered myself a religious person. At times I consider myself spiritual. But I think the greatest irony in my life currently is the fact that these assholes in our country who yell the loudest and know the fewest facts, these dicks who live-and-don't-let-live, these self-righteous bastards who are in our Congress and are voting in our polls who think that they know the best way for people to live: these people make me believe in God. These people who claim to believe in God and call themselves Christians, these people who fuel themselves with hate, these people remind me: there IS a higher power. I don't call it God, personally, but I know that in a universe so vast, so expanding, so incomprehensible... it does not matter what laws created by humans reign over me. The President of the United States has no more value in God's eyes than I do. A Tea Party shithead who goes to "church" every Sunday with their rifle and their homophobia has no more value in "God's" eyes than I do. We are all creations of the universe; we will all die and we are all freckles on the red-headed face of time. (yeah, I like that metaphor too).

I hope that, if the shit ever hits the fan for me, and I find myself tortured in some remote location for being an artist, a liberal, a free-thinker, a dissident... I hope that I can find the strength to separate my mind from my pained body and just travel out into space. I pray that those in this world that suffer every day are able to live within the relativity of their situation, for their own sake. And I pray for myself that I face the "fears" I have about my creations and just put out there what I am intended to put out.

The fear that artists living in our culture have around their art is so useless. It's bullshit and it's utterly fucking self-involved. Fuck the critics. Especially that one in your head, but even more especially those outside yourself. Because there would be no critic in your head if it wasn't for those people you think are critiquing you, or those that actually are in the papers and such. But fuck 'em. They're only useful for press releases. Otherwise, they're a bunch of fucking assholes and you don't need 'em. Critics only exist for press quotes and because our world revolves around money. But money's a bunch of fucking bullshit too.

My point is, if you're reading this, you're probably a lot luckier than millions of other people on this Earth. Millions of others who are unlucky without clean water or a warm bed to sleep in... but in God's eyes, they're just the same as you. Who knows what the next life will bring, if there is one... just. Be. Grateful. Remember that you are lucky. Whether or not you deserve it is of no worry to you. Just enjoy.